Perhaps Mag would say something ... but people never seemed to think anything of “dropping off to sleep.”
“I drempt that I dwelt in Marble Halls; you awake von Bohlen?”
“But speaking tentatively....”
“A long lean mizzerable tentative——”
“I perceive that you are still asleep. Shall I sing it—“I durr-e-empt I da-we-elt in ma-ha-har-ble halls.”
“Cooooo—oooo—er Bill.” The response sounded faintly from far away on the cliffs.
“Cooooo—ooo—er Micky” warbled Miriam. “I like that noise. When they are further off I shall try doing it very loud to get the proper crack.”
“I think we’d better leave her here, don’t you von Bohlen?”
Was it nearly tea-time? Would either of them soon mention tea? The beauty of the rocks had faded. Yet, if they ceased being clever and spoke of the beauty, it would not come back. The weariness of keeping things up went on. When the gingernuts and lemonade were at last set out upon the sand, they shamed Miriam with the sense of her long preoccupation with them. The girls had not thought of them. They never seemed to flag in their way of talking. Perhaps it was partly their regular meals. It was dreadful always to be the first one to want food....