We were still unravelling, still demanding and explaining when the ship's bell began to ring for church, and almost simultaneously Cecily advanced towards us.

She had a proper Sunday hat on, with flowers under the brim, and a church-going frock; she wore gloves and clasped a prayer-book.

Most of the women who filed past to the summons of the bell were going down as they were, in cotton blouses and serge skirts, in tweed caps or anything, as to a kind of family prayers.

I knew exactly how they would lean against the pillars of the saloon during the psalms.
This young lady would be little less than a rebuke to them.

I surveyed her approach; she positively walked as if it were Sunday.
'My dear,' I said, 'how endimanchee you look! The bishop will be very pleased with you.