“You are very silent, Iris....”
“Yes ... yes? Sometimes.... I don’t know, but it’s as though the stars make me nervous, sometimes. They’re so hopeless. They sneer, I can’t help thinking. But are we going right?”
The darkness ahead stirred with tiny flames and exultant voices. Venice and Shirley!
“I say, lovely boat!” cried Shirley.
“Where, Shirley?” I called.
“Between you and me,” Iris whispered, “I wouldn’t mind sitting. Foot hurts....”
“Come straight on. Don’t go right or left. River.”
“It’s not a boat at all!” cried Venice. “It’s a lovely motor-canoe. Oh, chaps!”
“Ssh!” Guy’s voice.
Who cared? Not Shirley. “And cushions! And steering-wheel! And everything....”