“In the state of starvation I’m in,” she said, “marmalade would go with pea soup. Cocoanut creams and tongue will be simply delicious. Have you anything to drink?”
“Only the juice of the tinned peaches.”
“Peach juice,” said Miss Rutherford, “is nectar. Do I drink it out of the tin or must I pour it into the palm of my hand and lap?”
“Any way you like,” said Frank. “I believe there’s a bailer somewhere if you prefer it.”
“I prefer the tin, if it doesn’t shock you.”
“Oh,” said Frank, “nothing shocks me.”
This was very nearly true. It had not been true a week before; but a day on the sea with Priscilla had done a great deal for Frank. Miss Rutherford threw her head back, tilted the peach tin, and quaffed a satisfying draught.
“I’m afraid,” she said, “that you were just as sceptical as your cousin was about my sponges.”
“I was rather surprised.”
“Naturally. You were thinking of bath sponges and naked Indians plunging over the side of their boats with large stones in their hands to sink them. But I’m not after bath sponges. I’m doing the zoophytes for the natural history survey of this district.”