Saxon held out her arms to receive it, making motions as if she
were bathing in the gray mist.
"I never thought I'd grow tired of the sun," she said; "but we've
had more than our share the last few weeks."
"Ever since we hit the Sacramento Valley," Billy affirmed. "Too
much sun ain't good. I've worked that out. Sunshine is like
liquor. Did you ever notice how good you felt when the sun come
out after a week of cloudy weather. Well, that sunshine was just
like a jolt of whiskey. Had the same effect. Made you feel good
all over. Now, when you're swimmin', an' come out an' lay in the
sun, how good you feel. That's because you're lappin' up a
sun-cocktail. But suppose you lay there in the sand a couple of
hours. You don't feel so good. You're so slow-movin' it takes you
a long time to dress. You go home draggin' your legs an' feelin'
rotten, with all the life sapped outa you. What's that? It's the
katzenjammer. You've been soused to the ears in sunshine, like so
much whiskey, an' now you're payin' for it. That's straight.
That's why fog in the climate is best."
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