The Girl on the Boat - Penn State University

to the door and took the note from J. B. Midgeley,
who, his mission accomplished, retired in an orderly
manner down the passage. Sam looked at the letter
with a thrill. He had never seen the handwriting before,
but, with the eye of love, he recognised it. It was
just the sort of hand he would have expected Billie to
write, round and smooth and flowing, the writing of a
warm-hearted girl. He tore open the envelope.
“Please come up to the top deck. I want to speak to
you.”
Sam could not disguise it from himself that he was a
little disappointed. I don’t know if you see anything
wrong with the letter, but the way Sam looked at it was
that, for a first love-letter, it might have been longer
and perhaps a shade warmer. And, without running
any risk of writer’s cramp, she might have signed it.
However, these were small matters. No doubt the dear
girl had been in a hurry and so forth. <strong>The</strong> important
point was that he was going to see her. When a man’s
afraid, sings the bard, a beautiful maid is a cheering sight
to see; and the same truth holds good when a man has
P. G. Wodehouse
73
made an exhibition of himself at a ship’s concert. A
woman’s gentle sympathy, that was what Samuel
Marlowe wanted more than anything else at the moment.
That, he felt, was what the doctor ordered. He
scrubbed the burnt cork off his face with all possible
speed and changed his clothes and made his way to the
upper deck. It was like Billie, he felt, to have chosen this
spot for their meeting. It would be deserted and it was
hallowed for them both by sacred associations.
She was standing at the rail, looking out over the
water. <strong>The</strong> moon was quite full. Out on the horizon to
the south its light shone on the sea, making it look like
the silver beach of some distant fairy island. <strong>The</strong> girl
appeared to be wrapped in thought and it was not till
the sharp crack of Sam’s head against an overhanging
stanchion announced his approach, that she turned.
“Oh, is that you?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been a long time.”
“It wasn’t an easy job,” explained Sam, “getting all
that burnt cork off. You’ve no notion how the stuff sticks.