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The Girl on the Boat - Penn State University

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ceased to include <strong>the</strong> whole sex in my remarks. Jane<br />

Hubbard has restored my faith in Woman. Sam! Sam!”<br />

“What?”<br />

“I said that Jane Hubbard had restored my faith in<br />

Woman.”<br />

“Oh, all right.”<br />

Eustace Hignett finished undressing and got into bed.<br />

With a soft smile <strong>on</strong> his face he switched off <strong>the</strong> light.<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>The</str<strong>on</strong>g>re was a l<strong>on</strong>g silence, broken <strong>on</strong>ly by <strong>the</strong> distant<br />

purring of <strong>the</strong> engines.<br />

At about twelve-thirty a voice came from <strong>the</strong> lower<br />

berth.<br />

“Sam!”<br />

“What is it now?”<br />

“<str<strong>on</strong>g>The</str<strong>on</strong>g>re is a sweet womanly strength about her, Sam.<br />

She was telling me she <strong>on</strong>ce killed a pan<strong>the</strong>r with a<br />

hat-pin.”<br />

Sam groaned and tossed <strong>on</strong> his mattress.<br />

Silence fell again.<br />

“At least I think it was a pan<strong>the</strong>r,” said Eustace Hignett<br />

at a quarter past <strong>on</strong>e. “Ei<strong>the</strong>r a pan<strong>the</strong>r or a puma.”<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>The</str<strong>on</strong>g> <str<strong>on</strong>g>Girl</str<strong>on</strong>g> <strong>on</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>Boat</strong><br />

82<br />

CHAPTER VIII<br />

Sir Mallaby Offers a Suggesti<strong>on</strong><br />

1<br />

A WEEK AFTER <strong>the</strong> liner “Atlantic” had docked at<br />

Southampt<strong>on</strong> Sam Marlowe might have been observed—and<br />

was observed by various of <strong>the</strong> residents—<br />

sitting <strong>on</strong> a bench <strong>on</strong> <strong>the</strong> esplanade of that rising watering-place,<br />

Bingley-<strong>on</strong>-<strong>the</strong>-Sea, in Sussex. All watering-places<br />

<strong>on</strong> <strong>the</strong> south coast of England are blots <strong>on</strong><br />

<strong>the</strong> landscape, but though I am aware that by saying it<br />

I shall offend <strong>the</strong> civic pride of some of <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>rs—<br />

n<strong>on</strong>e are so peculiarly foul as Bingley-<strong>on</strong>-<strong>the</strong>-Sea. <str<strong>on</strong>g>The</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

asphalte <strong>on</strong> <strong>the</strong> Bingley esplanade is several degrees<br />

more depressing than <strong>the</strong> asphalte <strong>on</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r esplanades.<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>The</str<strong>on</strong>g> Swiss waiters at <strong>the</strong> Hotel Magnificent, where Sam

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