The Girl on the Boat - Penn State University

<strong>The</strong> spell which had lain on the audience broke. This
imitation seemed to them to possess in an extraordinary
measure the one quality which renders amateur
imitations tolerable, that of brevity. <strong>The</strong>y had seen
many amateur imitations, but never one as short as
this. <strong>The</strong> saloon echoed with their applause.
It brought no balm to Samuel Marlowe. He did not
hear it. He had fled for refuge to his state-room and
was lying in the lower berth, chewing the pillow, a soul
in torment.
<strong>The</strong> <strong>Girl</strong> on the Boat
72
CHAPTER VII
Sundered Hearts
THERE WAS A TAP at the door. Sam sat up dizzily. He
had lost all count of time.
“Who’s that?”
“I have a note for you, sir.”
It was the level voice of J. B. Midgeley, the steward.
<strong>The</strong> stewards of the White Star Line, besides being the
civillest and most obliging body of men in the world,
all have soft and pleasant voices. A White Star steward,
waking you up at six-thirty, to tell you that your
bath is ready, when you wanted to sleep on till twelve,
is the nearest human approach to the nightingale.
“A what?”
“A note, sir.”
Sam jumped up and switched on the light. He went