Lady Kirkbank
would be astir presently, and there would be no more solitude for them
till they were married, and could shake her off altogether. So Lesbia
stayed, and those two drank the cup of bliss, hushed by the monotonous
sing-song of the sea, the rhythm of the swinging sails. But now it was
broad morning. The hour when society, however late it may keep its
revels overnight, is apt to awaken, were it only to call for a cup of
strong tea and to turn again on the pillow of lassitude, after that
refreshment, like the sluggard of Holy Writ. At ten o'clock the sun sent
his golden arrows across the silken coverlet of her berth and awakened
Lady Kirkbank, who opened her eyes and looked about languidly. The
little cabin was heaving itself up and down in a curious way; Mr.
Smithson's cigar-cases were sloping as if they were going to fall upon
Lady Kirkbank's couch, and the looking-glass, with all its dainty
appliances, was making an angle of forty-five degrees. There was more
swirling and washing of water against the hull than ever Georgie
Kirkbank had heard in Cowes Roads.
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