'I can't say that I do.' Her colour was high, she
seemed angry about something.
'Un peu trop de monde,' said Ursula, explaining.
'Eh? TROP DE MONDE!' He laughed shortly. 'Yes there's a fair number of
'em.'
Gudrun turned on him brilliantly.
'Have you ever been from Westminster Bridge to Richmond on one of the
Thames steamers?' she cried.
'No,' he said, 'I can't say I have.'
'Well, it's one of the most VILE experiences I've ever had.' She spoke
rapidly and excitedly, the colour high in her cheeks. 'There was
absolutely nowhere to sit down, nowhere, a man just above sang "Rocked
in the Cradle of the Deep" the WHOLE way; he was blind and he had a
small organ, one of those portable organs, and he expected money; so
you can imagine what THAT was like; there came a constant smell of
luncheon from below, and puffs of hot oily machinery; the journey took
hours and hours and hours; and for miles, literally for miles, dreadful
boys ran with us on the shore, in that AWFUL Thames mud, going in UP TO
THE WAIST--they had their trousers turned back, and they went up to
their hips in that indescribable Thames mud, their faces always turned
to us, and screaming, exactly like carrion creatures, screaming "'Ere
y'are sir, 'ere y'are sir, 'ere y'are sir," exactly like some foul
carrion objects, perfectly obscene; and paterfamilias on board,
laughing when the boys went right down in that awful mud, occasionally
throwing them a ha'penny.
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