"Beautifully punctual," she called out over the side. "I knew you would be, so I started getting breakfast."
I caught hold of the gunwale and scrambled on board.
"It's like living at the Savoy," I said. "Breakfast was a luxury that had never entered my head."
"Well, it's going to now," she returned, "unless you're in too great a hurry to start. It's all ready in the cabin."
"We can spare ten minutes certainly," I said. "Experiments should always be made on a full body."
I tied up the dinghy and followed her inside, where the table was decorated with bread and butter and the remnants of the cold pheasant, while a kettle hissed away cheerfully on the Primus.
"I don't believe you've been to bed at all, Joyce," I said. "And yet you look as if you'd just slipped out of Paradise by accident."
She laughed, and putting her hand in my side-pocket, took out my handkerchief to lift off the kettle with.
"I didn't want to sleep," she said. "I was too happy, and too miserable. It's the widest-awake mixture I ever tried." Then, picking up the teapot, she added curiously: "Where's the powder? I expected to see you arrive with a large keg over your shoulder."
I sat down at the table and produced a couple of glass flasks, tightly corked.