'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.

And if you'd seen the intent look on the faces of these boys, and the way they darted in the filth when a coin was flung--really, no vulture or jackal could dream of approaching them, for foulness.

I NEVER would go on a pleasure boat again--never.' Gerald watched her all the time she spoke, his eyes glittering with faint rousedness.