To step out of the glitter and bustle of the station----rather weary and jaded with the long journey from Milan----straight on to the landing stage against which the water of the Grand Canal is lapping, to step on board a gondola and to go gliding down the dark, broad, silent highway, with dim-lit, ghostly palaces on either hand; not till memory forsakes you will you forget this experience.
Is it an equivalent of a mother in the United States who forsakes her career and turns into a soccer mom?
