nine o'clock
Hudson Hotel . The day , which for Lilly began with the tickle of aërial champagne , petered out humiliatingly . Quite without the precedent of the previous trip to Buffalo , Niagara Palls , and Chicago , train-sickness set in and the remainder of the day was spent hunched with her face to the prickly hot plush of the seat , her hair and linen suit awry , and not a spot on the pillow mercifully proffered by the porter that would remain cool to her cheek . It was well past nine o'clock , and two hours behind schedule , when a very limp and rumpled Lilly followed the weary straggle of weary passengers through the pale fog of the New Jersey station to the waiting ferry . She found a place at the very bow , and , standing there beside her bags , hat off to the sudden kiss of fresh air , her prostrated senses seemed to lift . There was something Trojan , Illiadic , in the way in which they moved out presently , to bay . The first tang of salt air , that rotten , indescribable smell of the sea , tickled her nostrils .