“«Such a pity you don't believe in these things, Denis, such a pity,» said Mrs. Wimbush in her deep, distinct voice.
«I can't say I feel it so.»
«Ah, that's because you don't know what it's like to have faith. You've no idea how amusing and exciting life becomes when you do believe. All that happens means something; nothing you do is ever insignificant.
It makes life so jolly, you know. Here am I at Crome. Dull as ditchwater, you'd think; but no, I don't find it so. I don't regret the Old Days a bit. I have the Stars…» She picked up the sheet of paper that was lying on the blotting-pad.”