the cold, cold water?

_Dora._ Is it another spongeful you are wanting, Cyril Smith-Hybrow, and
myself destroyed entirely waiting for the marmalade?

[Cyril _blushes, passes the marmalade, sits down languidly and selects
an egg._ Mrs. S.-H. _pours out the coffee and resumes her keening._

_Mr. S.-H._ (_glaring at her_). Is it not a nice thing for the wife of a
respectable City stockbroker to sit at the breakfast-table making a noise
like that of a cow that is waiting to be milked?

_Mrs. S.-H._ (_hurt_). It is keening I am.

_Gertrude_ (_passing him "The Morning Post"_). Is it not enough that the
price of butter is up another threepence this blessed day, and the wind
rising, rising, and the rain falling, falling?

_Mr. S.-H._ It is destroyed we shall all be entirely.

_Cyril_ (_gazing into the depths of his egg_). There was a strange queer
dream I was after having the night that has gone. It was on the rocks I
was....

_Mr. S.-H._ (_glaring at the market reports_). It is on the rocks we shall
all be.

_Cyril._ ... on the rocks I was by the sea-shore ...

_Dora_ (_slightly hysterically_). With the wind rising, rising?