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"It's exactly the same with me," said Freddie, delighted with the smooth, easy way the conversation was flowing. "Whether it's the hot, greasy smell of the engines . . ." "It's not the engines," contended Ronny Devereux. "Stands to reason it can't be. I rather like the smell of engines. This station is reeking with the smell of engine-grease, and I can drink it in and enjoy it."
A cook cannot do his best whin the shore-steward sends him engine-grease. Annyhow, whin ye're young an' romantic, what's it mather what ye ate?" He went off and Robertson began to talk about Ardrigh. He was naïvely proud of the boat and his engines, and narrated hard runs in bad weather to land the livestock in time for important markets.
He went out hastily, closing the door behind him. Juno, with her immovable gaze, stared out to sea. Uncle William sniffed the air of the docks with keen relish. The spring warmth had brought out the smells of lower New York teemingly. There was a dash of salt air and tar, and a dim odor of floating of decayed vegetables and engine-grease and dirt.
"Grace is not modern and to talk to her makes you tired," Barbara rejoined. "But I'll tell you about the tea-party in the mess-room if you like." "Then you got tea in the cattle boat's mess-room?" "Of course," said Barbara. "Black tea and condensed milk, and a ruffian with red hair whom they called Mike had made some doughnuts with lard like engine-grease.
He was a stalwart, good-natured, black-bearded giant of a man, clad in a suit of dunduckety-mud-coloured velveteens, rather the worse for wear, and smeary with oil and engine-grease, which gave them a sort of highly- burnished appearance resembling that of a newly-polished black-leaded stove.
The face of the latter expressed anything but pleasure at meeting him, now that he felt guilty. But this was not the uppermost feeling with Norman. He noticed that August's clothes were spotted with engine-grease, and his first fear was of compromising his respectability.
But he had had to flee without a hat even without his luggage, which was neatly packed in a bag in the vestry. That, he felt sure, Mr. Poodle had already burst open for evidences of heresy and schism. The pearly trousers were stained with oil and coal-dust; the neat cutaway coat bore smears of engine-grease.
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