"Of course I did see him as soon as I got in, and then I remembered I was up above. So I climbed up."
"It must be rather difficult climbing up at night," thought Dahlia.
"Not if you get a good take-off, Dahlia," said Simpson earnestly.
"Simpson got a good one off my face," explained Thomas.
"My dear old chap, I was frightfully sorry. I did come down at once and tell you how sorry I was, didn't I?"
"You stepped back on to it," said Thomas shortly, and he turned his attention to the coffee.
Our table had finished breakfast. Dahlia and Myra got up slowly, and Archie and I filled our pipes and followed them out.
"Well, we'll leave you to it," said Archie to the other table. "Personally, I think it's Thomas's turn to step on Simpson. You ought to assert yourself, Thomas, anyhow. Throw some jam at him and then let bygones be bygones. But don't be long, because there's a good view coming."
The good view came, and then another and another, and they merged together and became one long moving panorama of beauty. We stood in the corridor and drank it in ... and at intervals we said "Oh-h!" and "Oh, I say!" and "Oh, I say, really!" And there was one particular spot—I wish I could remember where, so that it might be marked by a suitable tablet—at the sight of which Simpson was overheard to say "Mon Dieu!" for (probably) the first time in his life.
"You know, all these are olive trees, you chaps," he said every five minutes. "I wonder if there are any olives growing on them?"