But Oliver and Nancy had stopped being fashionable
some time before and they told each other that it was _much_ nicer than
first-class on one of the small liners with apparent conviction and never
got tired of rejoicing at their luck in its being an outside. It was true
that the port-hole might most of the time have been wholly ornamental for
all the good it did them, for it was generally splashed with grey October
sea, but, at least, as Nancy lucently explained, you could see things--once
there had actually been a porpoise--and that neither of them, in their
present condition, would have worried very much about it if their cabin had
been an aquarium was a fact beyond dispute.
"Time to get up, dear!" This is Oliver a little sternly from the upper
berth. "That was your bath that came in a minute ago and said something in
Cockney. At least I _think_ it was--mine's voice is a good deal more like
one of Peter's butlers--" "But, Ollie, I'm so _comfortable_!"
"So am I. But think of breakfast."
"Well--breakfast is a point." Then she chuckles, "Oh, Ollie, wouldn't it
have been _awful_ if we'd either of us been bad sailors!"
"We couldn't have been," says Oliver placidly.
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