river."

"And put our watches right," added Castleton.

"Then you girls can be driven home (your bags are all inside the taxis)
and sleep all the rest of the morning and afternoon."

Maurice was so eager to carry this addendum that none of them had the
heart to vote firmly for bed.

"I don't mind where we go," said Ronnie. "But why Greenwich in
particular? We can see the dawn break over the river just as well at
Westminster."

"Greenwich is in the manner," Maurice answered.

"What manner?"

"The crinoline manner. The Sloop is absolutely typically mid-Victorian
and already twice as romantic as your crumbling Gothic or overworked
Georgian."

So the taxis hummed off to Greenwich through the murk of a wet and windy
January morning. Wagons were being unloaded in Covent Garden as they
started; and along the Strand workers were already hurrying through the
rain. It was still too dark to see the river as they spun over Waterloo
Bridge, but the air blew in through the open windows very freshly. In
the New Kent Road factory girls, shuffling to work, turned to shout
after the four taxis; and Madge Wilson leaned out to wave to her
mother's shop as they passed.

All the way Jenny slept in Maurice's arms, and he from time to time
would bend over and kiss very lightly the sculptured mouth. In Deptford
High Street the gray dawn was beginning to define the houses, and in a
rift of the heavy clouds stars were paling.

Jenny woke up with a start.

"Where am I? Where am I?" Then, aware of Maurice, she nestled closer.

"You've been asleep, dearest. We're almost at Greenwich. It's
practically morning now."

"I'm cold."

"Are you, my sweet? I thought this fur coat would keep you warm. It's
yours, you know. I bought it for you to-day--yesterday, I mean."

"It's lovely and warm," she said, "but I'm so sleepy."

"You are so perfect when you're lying asleep," he said; "I must make a
statue of you. I shall call it The Tired Dancer. I'll begin as soon as
possible and finish it this spring."

"I wish spring would come quick," she murmured. "I'm sick of winter."

"So am I," he agreed. "And we shall have the most exquisite adventures
in the spring. We'll go out often into the country. Long country walks
will do you good."

"Rather."

"Hullo!" cried Maurice. "Here we are at the Sloop. I hope breakfast is
ready."

There was, however, no sign of life in the hotel by the water's side. It
stared at them without any welcome.