Ships were discussed and compared at almost every meal. Some, luxurious.
“But that yacht she was pretty, there’s no getting away from it.”
“That was my yacht.”
“They must employ quite a lot of shore labour to keep these yachts from looking like ships.”
“Well, they couldn’t very well make them look like standard ships, if they wanted to.”
“Oh, I don’ know–get the second mate and the chief to co-operate–saw off the funnel halfway, and throw a few ashes about the decks.”
Some, ideal.
“She looked just like the model of a ship–and she was spotless.”
Some, not what they ought to be.
“I looked and saw her name, The Duke of York. I thought to myself, I’ll write to him and tell him about the state of his namesake. She looked like a wreck.”