"You're right," Jenny put in. "I think we was all mad. What must they have thought of us—a party of loonies, I should say."
"I meant it to be very charming," Maurice urged in apology.
"Oh, well, it'll all come out in the wash, but I wish they'd bring in this unnatural breakfast."
The company sighed in unison, and, as if encouraged by such an utterance of breath, the wisp of smoke broke into a thin blue flame.
"Come, that's better," said Maurice, unduly encouraged. "The fire's burning up quite cheerfully."
This and the entrance of breakfast revived everybody, and when a genuine blaze crackled in the grate they thought Greenwich was not so bad after all; though Maurice could not persuade anybody to stand by the bleak windows flecked with raindrops and watch the big ships going out on the ebb.
"But what shall we do?" Jenny demanded. "I can't go home after the milk. I shall get into a most shocking row."
"You can explain matters," Cunningham suggested.
"Yes, I should say. Who'd believe we should be so mad as to rush off to Greenwich on a pouring morning for breakfast? No, I must say I slept with Ireen."
"Well, why don't you come back and go to bed at my place?" Irene suggested. "You can go home tea-time."