The mother had successfully acquired a reputation as a world-wide traveller, and husbands for her numerous daughters amounting to a net total of six, by dint of travelling the latter backwards and forwards over those heartbreaking routes which suffer from two weeks or more of going without a break.
Try from Aden to Sydney with one break at Colombo, and the above long and somewhat involved paragraph will be easily understood.
"I say, mater, guess who gave me these—have one?"
Mater sat back on her heels, bumping her head against the washstand, plucked a Simon Artz from its cardboard nest, lit it, and emitted volumes of smoke from mouth, and nostrils, until the cabin resembled the smoking-room of any West End ladies' club.
"Oh! don't ask silly questions, it's too hot! Who?"
"The Grizzly Bear!"
"No!"
"He did! He'd been ashore!"
"No!"
"Yes! I'd been talking to him, and had just turned to say something to the Babe when he slipped down the gangway. I do wish we weren't so hard up. It's an awful rag going ashore. He came back an hour ago, found a letter, and has been sitting up and taking notice ever since. It was a man's handwriting, I saw the envelope!"