Two o'clock
Mademoiselle looked pensive whenever she thought of the hours on board the boat , but for the rest she was as gay as one of the girls themselves , and much interested in the country through which they flew . One great town after another appeared , and was left behind as they roared through the stations , seeing nothing but a blur of white faces and undecipherable letters upon a board . Hour after hour and never a stop , morning changing into afternoon , and still no slackening of that wonderful onward rush . Two o'clock , and then , just as Pixie was beginning to nod after her lunch , a sudden cry of admiration came from Mademoiselle by her side , and there , close at hand , so near that but a step would have taken them upon the beach , lay the beautiful , mysterious sea , its waters shining in the winter sunshine , the breakers making a ridge of white along the yellow shore . The bathing vans were drawn up on the shingle , and there were no active little figures running to and fro digging castles on the sands , no nigger minstrels and gingerbread stalls and swarms of donkey-boys . All was still and bare and lifeless , and as the short day closed in there was an eeriness about the scene which made the travellers glad to draw the curtains over the windows , and which gave an added cheeriness to the prospect of tea . When Holyhead was reached , Mademoiselle lifted her bag and walked on board the steamer with the air of a martyr marching to the stake , and , to Pixie 's dismay , laid herself down at once with an utter disregard of the tables spread out in the saloon .