“A light breakfast?” Margaret said, eyeing the groaning table incredulously, noting that Marion slipped a coin into the waiter’s hand before he left. Tipping, it seemed, was yet another custom she would need to embrace.

“I may have ordered a smidgen too much,” Marion agreed, pouring her coffee, “though it’s a fraction of what’s available on the breakfast menu. The tea is English Breakfast. Does that suit you?”

“Very much,” Margaret said, relieved to see that this one, in her view essential commodity, was served just as she liked.

“Now, let’s see.” Marion began to lift the lids. “Fried oysters. And this must be the codfish with cream. Kidneys—a mixture of veal and mutton, according to the menu, though they smell just like lamb to me. Fried potatoes, a plain omelette. These pancakes must be the buckwheat cakes, which means that is the corn-bread, and these two last items—well, one of them must be the fried Indian pudding and the other the hominy. How disappointing—they look like custard and porridge. Ah well, one lives and learns.”

She began to help herself to a substantial selection, while Margaret took a tentative taste of the hominy before spooning out a small plateful of it. “Thank you very much for looking after me yesterday. I’m sorry I was poor company.”

“Stuff and nonsense. I’m not surprised you were somewhat overwhelmed. I must say, though, you look much refreshed this morning.”

“I feel much better, thank you.” Margaret cut a slice of the omelette, which was light and fluffy and flavoured with parsley.

“A number of calling cards have been left for you already,” Marion said, “and I am informed by the hotel concierge, a contact well worth cultivating, to expect a great deal more. It seems to be the practice here for the passenger lists of the liners to be published and for hotels to place lists of their more eminent guests in the newspapers.”

“Good heavens, we are not going to be besieged by callers on our first day, are we?”

“Oh no, I don’t think so, and in any case, I thought we could spend the day finding our feet, so to speak. A task that in my case is rather more of a voyage of discovery than yours,” Marion said, patting her tummy. “I think I must have gained at least a stone at sea, between the ten-course luncheons and banquet dinners, to say nothing of the champagne—not that champagne counts, of course. I will be banned from using the elevator, at this rate. I am afraid I have never had your commendable restraint when it comes to food. Mind you, I’ve never in my life had such a svelte figure as yours. Even in my younger days, my curves were what was known as generous.”