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"Another head - and a black alpaca
jacket and a serviette this time - to tell us coffee is ready. Not before it is time, too.
We go down into the subterranean state-room and sit on the screw-pin chairs, while the
ship does the slide-and-slope trot under us, and we drink a couple of cups of coffee and
milk, and eat a piece of bread and butter. At least one of the innumerable members of the crew gives me one cup, then casts me off. It is most obviously his intention that I shall get no more; because of course the innumerable members of the crew could all just do with another coffee and milk. However, though the ship heaves and the alpaca coats cluster menacingly in the doorway, I balance my way to the tin buffet and seize the coffee pot and the milk pot..."
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