probably trying to become acquainted with them before they got
into the swim. So she assumed a dazed expression when he spoke to
her, and then said: "A view? Oh, a view! How delightful a view
is!"

"This is my son," said the old man; "his name's George. He has a
view too."

"Ah," said Miss Bartlett, repressing Lucy, who was about to
speak.

"What I mean," he continued, "is that you can have our rooms, and
we'll have yours. We'll change."

The better class of tourist was shocked at this, and sympathized
with the new-comers. Miss Bartlett, in reply, opened her mouth as
little as possible, and said "Thank you very much indeed; that is
out of the question."

"Why?" said the old man, with both fists on the table.

"Because it is quite out of the question, thank you."

"You see, we don't like to take--" began Lucy. Her cousin again
repressed her.

"But why?" he persisted. "Women like looking at a view; men
don't." And he thumped with his fists like a naughty child,
and turned to his son, saying, "George, persuade them!"