The Collected Short Stories of Conrad Aiken

FAREWELL! FAREWELL! FAREWELL!

I.

Margaret O’Brien dreamed that she woke up late—the alarm clock on the table by her bed said eight o’clock—she couldn’t account for it, and jumped out of bed in a panic. The Converses expected breakfast at eight-thirty. She flew down to the kitchen, without stopping to put up her hair or wash her face, and rushed to the stove. It was out. The grate was full of half-burned coal and ashes, cold, and she dumped out the whole thing; a cloud of dust filled the air, and she began to cough. Then she found that the kindling box was empty, and that she would have to go down to the cellar and get some. She stuffed newspapers into the grate, flung her hair over her left shoulder, and went to the door which led down to the cellar. It was locked or stuck. She pulled at the knob, wrestled with it, shook it violently; and just at that moment she heard Mrs. Converse’s voice in the distance, calling her: “Margaret!—Margaret!—Margaret!” The bell began ringing furiously and prolongedly in the indicator over the sink, and she turned around and saw all the little arrows jumping at once. Someone—perhaps Mr. Converse—was running down the front stairs, running and singing. The voice trailed off forlornly, with the sinister effect of a train whistle. A door slammed—Mr. Converse had gone off without waiting for his breakfast—and she woke up.

Sweet hour, what a dream! She rubbed her hand across her forehead, looked up, and saw something unfamiliar over her head; it was the upper bunk of the stateroom, with long leaded slats of wood to support the mattress. Then there was a rack with a life-belt in it. Of course; she was on a steamship, going to Ireland. How funny! She relaxed, smiled, turned her head on the hard little pillow, and looked across to the other bunk; and there was Katy looking back at her and grinning. The ship gave a long, slow lurch, and the hooked door rattled twice on its brass hook. She put her hand quickly to her mouth.

“Gosh, what a dream I had!” she said. “I’m going to get out of this, or I’ll be sick.”

“Me, too,” said Katy. “You could cut the air with a knife.”

“What time is it, I wonder?”

Katy slid a bare leg out from under the bedclothes.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I heard a gong, but I don’t know if it was the first or the second.”

II.

It was a lovely day, and the ocean was beautiful. It was much smoother than they had expected it to be, too—a lazy blue swell with fish-scale sparkles on it. A sailing ship went by on the south, with very white sails, and tiny rowboats hung up on the decks, and one hanging over the stern. They could see a little man running along the deck and then hauling up a bunch of flags, some kind of signal. It was the kind of day when it is warm, almost hot, in the sun, but cold in the shade. They walked round and round the decks, after eating some oranges, and wished there was something to do. At eleven o’clock the band began playing in the lounge, and they went in for a cup of beef-tea. The room was crowded, and children were falling over people’s legs. Some women were playing cards at a table. The deck-steward went round with a tray of beef-tea cups and crackers.

While they were drinking their beef-tea they saw him again—the gentleman who had the room next to theirs; he just looked into the lounge for a minute, with a book under his arm, and then went out again. He was the nicest man on the ship: so refined-looking, so much of a gentleman, with a queer, graceful, easy way of walking and such nice blue eyes. He reminded Margaret a little of Mr. Converse, but he was younger; he couldn’t have been more than thirty. She thought it would be nice to talk to him, but she supposed he wouldn’t come near her. He had been keeping aloof from everyone, all the way over, reading most of the time, or walking alone on the deck with that book under his arm, and never wearing a hat.

“I’d like to talk to that man,” she said, putting down the cup under her chair.

“Well, why don’t you?” said Katy. “I guess he wouldn’t bite you.”

“He looks like Mr. Converse; I guess he’s shy.”

“I don’t see what’s the matter with Pat, if you want to talk to somebody.”

“Oh, Pat’s all right.…”

Pat, however, was in the steerage, and when Margaret wanted to talk to him they had to go down the companionway to the forward deck. It was all right, but it did seem a pity, when you were in the second cabin, to be spending so much time down in the steerage. And Katy had taken up with old man Diehl, the inventor, who was in the second cabin. He was after her all the time to play cards or walk on the deck or sit and talk in the smoking room. It was all right for Katy, but not much fun for Margaret. She couldn’t always be tagging along with them, and she didn’t like to feel that Mr. Diehl was paying for her glass of Guinness every time they had a drink.

A crowd of people rushed out to the decks, and others went to the windows, pointing; so they went out too, to see what the excitement was about. It was only another steamer coming from the opposite direction, with black smoke pouring out of its smokestacks. They walked along to the place where they played shovelboard, but some kids had it; so then they didn’t know what to do. They looked down at the steerage deck, and there were Pat and the girls having a dance. Pat was playing his concertina. His black curly hair was blowing in the wind, and he looked up and saw them. He jerked his head backward as a signal to them to come down, so they did. They danced for a while, and one of the girls passed round a box of candy.

“I guess you think you’re too good for us,” said Pat, grinning.

“No, we don’t,” Margaret said. “But they don’t like to have us going up and down these stairs. It’s against the rules of the ship.”

“Ah, tell it to the marines,” said Pat.

He shut up his eyes and began playing “The Wearing of the Green,” beating time with his foot on the deck.

“I hear Katy has a swell sweetheart,” one of the girls said.

They talked about old man Diehl, and how he always carried around the blueprints of his inventions with him, and showed them all the time to everybody in the smoking room. Katy said she liked his voice; such a deep rumble, it carried all over the dining room—you could hear it above everything else, even the music. And it wasn’t that he was talking loudly, either. He seemed to have lots of money. His daughter was with him, very pretty, but with a bad heart. She was kind of stuck-up, and wouldn’t have anything to do with Katy, and was always dragging the old man out of the smoking room on one excuse or another. But she looked very pretty at the dance in that orchid dress.

“I guess he made a lot of money out of those inventions,” said Katy.

“What did he invent?” one of the girls asked.

“One of those amusement things they have at Coney Island,” said Katy.

Just then the whistle blew for noon, deafening everybody, and the steerage passengers had their dinner at noon, so they began going away. Pat strapped up his concertina and ran his hand through his hair.

“So long,” he said. “Give us a look again, when you haven’t got any swell company.”

He dived down the dark little companionway, and they were left alone.

As they went up the stairs Margaret said that Pat gave her a headache. He made her tired. He made her sick.

III.

At lunch there was something of a treat. A special table had been put on the little platform where the band usually played—the piano had been pushed back—and a swell party was being given there. It was, in fact, the wedding breakfast, after a mock wedding which had taken place in the dining saloon just before lunch. They had come in just as it was over and old Mr. Diehl was in the act of kissing the bride, who was Mr. Carter dressed up in a girl’s dress. The bridegroom was Miss Diehl dressed in a man’s tuxedo. They all sat, eight people, at the round table on the platform, and they had several bottles of wine. Miss Diehl was wearing a white yachting cap to keep up her hair, which was pulled up to look like a man’s.

“Your friend is there,” said Katy, giving Margaret a nudge with her elbow.

And, sure enough, he was. He was sitting at the opposite side, next to Mr. Carter, and he looked as if he weren’t enjoying himself at all. He kept sipping his wine and smiling in an uneasy sort of way, as if he were very much embarrassed. Most of the time he was looking down at the dishes before him. The rest of the party were making a lot of noise, talking and laughing and making jokes and slapping each other on the back. Then Mr. Diehl made a speech, toward the end, and the bridegroom got up and proposed a toast. Several toasts were drunk and speeches made, and they tried to get the nice man to get up and speak, but he blushed and resisted and sat still, though Mr. Carter tried to push him out of his chair.

“He’s awful good-looking,” said Margaret.

“Suit yourself,” said Katy. “To my idea, he’s too quiet-seeming.”

“I wish he’d look at me once.”

“Well, if you keep on staring at him like you are, he will, and then he’ll be scared to death.”

All the same, she felt as if she couldn’t keep her eyes off him, she didn’t know why; there was something very appealing about his face. His blue eyes were very kind and wise-looking, and he had a way of smiling to himself all the time as if he were having all sorts of humorous thoughts. She felt that he was very superior to all those other people, but he was too nice to show it. In fact, he was superior to everyone else on the ship. There was something important about him.

And then, all of a sudden—she didn’t know just how it happened—he was looking at her. There were two tables in between, and lots of other people he might have looked at, and a branch of a palm tree that almost got in the way, but in spite of all these obstacles there could be no doubt about it: he was looking straight at her. A sort of shock went through her, and she felt herself blushing. But she kept her nerve, and looked back at him without in the least changing her expression, which she knew had been one of frank admiration. In fact, she felt her eyes widening a little, and a special kind of brightness going into them. And the strangest thing of all was the way he met this: he looked quickly away, but only for a moment; and then he looked right back again, while with one hand he fiddled with his glass of water. He looked at her almost as if he had suddenly recognized her, though of course they had never met before. His eyes brightened, in fact, in exactly the same way that hers had done; they brightened and widened, and he seemed to be unable to look away again. So they looked at each other for about two or three minutes like this, as if they were the only two people in the whole room. It was almost as if they were signaling to each other. Then Mr. Carter apparently said something to him, and he turned his head away.

“Well, he looked at me,” she, said to Katy, “and something happened.”

“What do you mean, something happened?”

“I don’t know, but it gave me a funny feeling. I think he likes me the same way I like him.”

“Don’t be too sure,” said Katy. “Anyway, he isn’t looking at you now.”

“No, I know he isn’t; but he was, just the same. It was a long look, and I felt all over as if I was melting.”

“I guess what you need is some air,” said Katy, “or else both of you’ll have to be locked up.”

IV

They roamed the decks again after lunch, and sat for a while in the sun parlor at the back, in wicker chairs, watching the stern of the ship swoop up and down in quarter-circles against the sea, which seemed to be coming right up over the ship but never did; and for a while the old deckhand, a sailor with a nice white beard, stood with his pail in his hand and talked to them about the “old country.” He also told them about a hawk that had been blown on to the ship. It was exhausted, he said. It had probably been chasing some other bird and followed it out to sea, and then didn’t know how to get back. It stayed on one of the masts for a while, and they put out food for it, and then the next day they found it on the bow, huddled up against an iron thwart. It fought when they came near it, and it wouldn’t eat, so they decided they’d better kill it. Finally, one of the sailors threw his hat over it and jumped on it, and killed it.

“Oh, what a shame!” said Margaret. “I think that’s a shame.”

The old sailor grinned, half embarrassed.

“We get hardened to it,” he said. “There’s always birds like that coming aboard, you know, and they never live. Those little yellowbirds, for instance. You can feed them, but they die just the same, and you might as well heave ’em overboard and be done with it. They get so tame, or scared maybe, that they’ll come hoppin’ right in here amongst these chairs.”

After a while he went away, carrying his sponge in one hand and his pail in the other, walking very slowly, as if there was lots of time. Katy opened her magazine and began reading. Every now and then she turned a page, but she hadn’t turned many when Margaret noticed that she was fast asleep. The twins went by, with their short skirts blowing way up round their skinny little legs, and then came Mr. Carter and Miss Diehl, in their proper clothes again. They brought the peg and began playing quoits. They were having a good time—just as they were going to throw the quoit the ship would give a slant and the quoit would go wild. They would laugh and stagger about. The noise finally waked up Katy. She yawned and stretched, and wanted as usual to know what time it was. The sky was clouding up and the wind seemed colder, so they decided to go and sit in the lounge. Margaret wanted to be doing something, but she didn’t know what there was they could do.

“What are you so restless for?” said Katy.

“I’m not restless; only I get so sick of just sitting round and watching the water go by.”

“Well, it is kind of monotonous, at that,” said Katy.

They took a look down at the steerage deck, but there was nobody there, probably because it was getting chilly. In the steerage you got all the wind.

What she really wanted was to see the nice man again, but she couldn’t exactly go looking for him. She hoped he would be in the lounge, and when she saw that he wasn’t she thought of suggesting to Katy that they go to the smoking room, but she didn’t quite have the nerve to do it. Instead they settled down in a corner and listened to the music and had their tea and watched the people and yawned. Margaret felt unhappy. It wasn’t only because she wanted to see him; it was just as much because she was bored with being on a ship. Every day was like Sunday. After a while you got tired of walking round the decks and sitting here and sitting there and drinking tea or beef-tea and going to the dining saloon for another meal that was just like the last. The stewards were all the time trying to flirt with them, too.

All the same, she didn’t see how it could just end there, after a look like that—it didn’t seem natural at all. But would he do anything about it? Most probably he was too shy. He might even be so shy that he would try to keep out of her way. Or he might think that she was trying to kidnap him or something. She thought of that look again, and felt herself blushing just the way she did at the time. If any look had a meaning, that look did. There was no getting away from that.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she said, suddenly jumping up.

She walked quickly out of the lounge without knowing at all where she was going—she just felt that she had to be doing something, going somewhere, anything but just sitting still. She felt excited, too, as she pushed open the door that led out to the deck—it had been shut for the night—and launched herself out into the wind. It was just getting dark. The water was black, with patches of moving white, and seemed to be sliding past the ship much faster than it did in the daytime. She walked briskly round the deck, keeping an eye out for other pedestrians, but there was nobody about. She tried the other two decks, but they too were deserted. Then she stood hesitating. After all, she didn’t have the least idea of what to say to him if she met him—or whether she would find any excuse for it, or way of doing it. In fact, she wasn’t sure that that was what she wanted. She just wanted to see him. Perhaps he was in the smoking room. She turned and went down a companionway to the lower deck again, and then round the sun parlor to the smoking room. She went in and stood near the door, as if she just wanted to look round for someone, and surveyed the whole room. Old man Diehl was standing by the bar with Mr. Carter and two other men; he seemed to be a little drunk. They were telling smutty stories. The bar-steward saw her and warned them, and they lowered their voices. Two other men were sitting in armchairs facing the artificial fire; neither of them was the man she was looking for. And there was no one else in the room. She returned to the sun parlor, which looked very forlorn with its deserted wicker chairs under electric lights, facing the darkness and emptiness of the sea, and sat down. Suddenly she felt defeated and miserable. She didn’t want to see Katy or anybody—she didn’t want to go down to dinner. She would excuse herself with a headache and go to bed.…

V.

At lunch the next day she said she was going to speak to him if she died for it. She would ask him to join them in a game of whist. They could get old man Diehl to make the fourth, in case he accepted. Katy was skeptical but resigned.

“Anybody’d think you were in love with him,” she said.

Margaret laughed and blushed.

“Oh, no,” she said. “But I’d like to talk to him just the same. After lunch I’m going to find him if I have to comb the whole ship. He must be somewhere.”

They had seen him only once in the morning—as usual he was walking the deck for his half-hour’s constitutional. He passed them several times, and looked at them with interest but without speaking. Margaret said she thought he wanted to speak but was too bashful. He had that everlasting blue book under his arm, and his fair hair was all on end with the wind. Then he had disappeared again.

After lunch, accordingly, they went straight to the lounge and got a table, and Katy spoke to Mr. Diehl. Mr. Diehl said he would be in the smoking room and they could find him there any time in case they wanted a game. Katy got the cards and sat down at the table, and Margaret started off to make her search; and just at that very minute he came in and sat down at the other side of the room and opened his book. She didn’t know whether he had seen them or not.

She walked right up to him, smiling, and stood in front of him and looked down at him.

“Would you care to join us in a game of whist?” she said.

He closed his book and looked up.

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” he said, smiling.

She gave a laugh.

“Yes, it’s me, large as life and twice as natural!”

He stood up, tucking the book under his arm.

“As a matter of fact,” he said, “I never played whist in my life. Is it anything like bridge?”

“I don’t know, but I guess if you can play bridge you can play whist.”

They stood very close to each other, swaying with the ship, and again they found themselves looking into each other’s eyes as they had done the day before at lunch. Margaret almost regretted that they had planned the whist game for it was now obvious that otherwise she could have him all to herself.

“All right,” he said, again smiling, “if you can stand it I can.”

She led him over to the table and introduced him to Katy. He said his name was Camp. Katy got up and went in pursuit of Mr. Diehl, and they sat down.

“You’d better be my partner,” she said, “and then I can show you as we go along.”

She took the chair opposite his and began shuffling the cards, at the same time looking at him. A feeling of extraordinary happiness came over her—she had never in her life felt so happy, or so much as if her whole happiness was in her eyes. And the queer thing was that she somehow knew that he was in the same state of mind.

“What do you do with yourself all the time?” she asked. “You hardly ever seem to be anywhere round.”

“Most of the time I’ve been in the smoking room playing chess,” he said. “But I’ve also been working a good deal in my stateroom. I’ve got some work that has to be finished before we get to Liverpool. And there’s only two more days.”

Margaret felt a sharp pain in her breast.

“I get off at Queenstown,” she said. “Tomorrow night.”

“Do you?”

He accented the first word, and looked at her with a curious helplessness. They both dropped their eyes and became silent.

At that moment Katy brought Mr. Diehl and introduced him, and the game began. Margaret and Katy explained how it went to Mr. Camp, with a good deal of laughter. Mr. Diehl gave Mr. Camp a cigar.

“What’s your line of business, Mr. Camp?” he said.

Mr. Camp said that he was an architect. He was going over to superintend the construction of a new office building that an American firm was putting up in London. Margaret felt a thrill. She slid her right foot forward under the table, so that the toe of her slipper touched something. Then Mr. Camp, after a moment, caught her foot between his two feet and squeezed it firmly, and they looked at each other and smiled.

VI.

At four o’clock the deck-steward brought them tea, and Mr. Diehl began telling them in his deep voice, with a slight German accent, how he had come to America at the age of sixteen and worked in railroad repair shops. He said he was sixty-eight years old and strong as an ox, and he looked it. He told Mr. Camp about his Whirligig Car, at Coney Island, and how he got the idea for it in his work on trucks in the railroad yards. Now it had made him a fortune, and he was going over to Blackpool and Southport to put them in there.

Margaret couldn’t listen. She was impatient. She wanted to go off alone with Mr. Camp. She pressed his foot hard, under the table, and smiled at him. But he didn’t take the hint, or couldn’t think what to do. It was Katy who saved the day. She got up and suggested that they all take a stroll—it was a lovely warm day and a shame to be indoors. Besides, the lounge was getting stuffy.

“Come on, then, Katy!” said Mr. Diehl.

He jumped up and gave her his arm with mock gallantry—the sort of thing he was always doing—and they started off.

“Shall we walk too—or shall we stay here?” said Mr. Camp.

“Whatever you like,” said Margaret.

“I feel terribly separated from you, without your foot,” he said, laughing. “But I suppose we ought to get a breath of air.”

They climbed up to the top deck and began walking to and fro. He didn’t offer to take her arm, but walked rather distantly beside her. At first they couldn’t think of much to say—they talked about the whist game and Mr. Diehl, but not as if they were really interested in these things. Margaret felt as if she wouldn’t be able to think straight till she took his arm, so after a few turns on the deck she did so.

“That’s better,” she said simply.

“Much!”

“Tell me,” she said, “if I hadn’t spoken to you, would you ever have spoken to me?”

“That’s what I came into the lounge for,” he answered. “Ever since lunch yesterday I’ve been wondering what on earth to do about it. I’m kind of shy, and these things don’t come natural to me. But I thought, if I went into the lounge, some kind of opportunity might occur. That’s what I was there for. But I was terribly relieved when you started it off.”

“You must think I’m very bold.”

“Good Lord, no! You had a little more courage than I did, that’s all.”

They talked then about Ireland, and she told him that she was going back to visit her mother for the summer. She was a cook, she said, and her employer, Mr. Converse, who was very nice, had given her three months off and paid her passage to Queenstown. She had been in Brooklyn for ten years. She was twenty-five. He asked her if she was married, and she said no.

“I am,” he said.

She felt again that pain in her breast.

“I thought you were,” she said, looking intently at him.

He wanted to know why she thought so, and they stood and leaned against the railing, with their shoulders touching and their faces very close. His eyes, she noticed, were even bluer than the sea. She couldn’t tell him why she thought so, exactly—it was just something about him.

“A woman can almost always tell when a man’s married,” she said. “But I’m glad you told me, all the same.”

“I believe in being honest, especially at a time like this.”

“How do you mean, at a time like this?”

He gave her a queer look—the corners of his mouth were twisting a little, as if he were under a strain, but there was a twinkle in his eyes.

“You know what I mean,” he said.

“No, honest, I don’t!”

“Well, you certainly ought to,” he said. He turned around and put his arms on the railing and stared down at the water. “I mean the way we feel about each other.”

She held her breath. He had said it so nicely and so quietly, and without even trying to hold her hand.

“How do you know we do!” she said, smiling.

He smiled back at her.

“All right—let’s see you look me in the eye and tell me that we don’t!”

She looked away from him, sobering.

“We oughtn’t to be talking like this,” she answered. “What about your wife? You know it isn’t right.”

“Of course it isn’t … Or is it?… I don’t know.”

“What does your religion tell you?” she said.

“I haven’t got any.”

“Well, I have. I’m a Catholic.”

“Do you go to confession?”

“Sure, I do.”

They were silent. She was half-sorry she had rebuked him, and half-glad. But he had to know how she felt, even if it hurt her to tell him. She didn’t want him to get any false ideas. After a minute, as he didn’t say anything, but just went on staring at the water, she turned and looked at him. He was resting his chin on his hands.

“Would you like to walk some more?” she asked, almost timidly.

They walked round and round the deck, while slowly the sunset behind them faded and the sky darkened. He said that he always thought the sea sounded louder at night, and she stopped to listen to it, to see if it was true. She said she couldn’t see any difference, or any reason why there should be any. They talked about Katy and Mr. Diehl. Miss Diehl, she said, was likely to die most any time—she had a very bad heart. But she insisted on doing everything just as if there wasn’t anything the matter with her. Everybody at the dance had been scared that she would just drop down on the floor all of a sudden. Her face had got very white.

“Let’s go down and find Katy,” she suggested.

They went down the ladder to the lower deck and found them sitting in the sun parlor, holding hands.

“Is that what you’re doing!” said Margaret.

Mr. Diehl gave his deep rumble of a laugh. “I’ve got a pretty nice little girl,” he said, patting Katy’s shoulder.

Margaret and Mr. Camp sat down at the other side of the veranda. He pulled his chair up close to hers and she dropped her hand on her knee, where he couldn’t help seeing it. He put his own on top of it after a moment, and they just sat still without saying anything for a long while. He stroked her thumb with one of his fingers, to and fro, and the smooth hollow between the thumb and forefinger, and she felt as if she were being hypnotized. Once in a while he would slip his finger up her sleeve and touch the inner side of her wrist. And once in a while, as if accidentally, he would stroke her knee. She knew he wouldn’t try to kiss her.

“My stateroom is next door to yours,” he said, after a time. “If you should want me for anything in the night, don’t hesitate to come in.”

There was a pause.

“I don’t think there’s anything I’d want,” she answered. “Unless one of us was to be sick, or something like that.”

“Well, if there’s anything at all,” he said.

She tried to withdraw her hand, but he held on to it. She gave up struggling and allowed it to remain in his. She felt unhappy again.

“I always try to think the best of people,” she said. “I’m sure you didn’t mean anything wrong by that.”

He didn’t reply, but instead, after a pause, put his other hand on her forearm and gave it a squeeze.

“You’re awfully nice, Margaret,” he said. “If I were free, I’d like to marry you.”

She shut her eyes, and didn’t know whether to believe him or not.

VII.

After dinner she had a good cry in her bunk, while Katy sat and talked to her, and from time to time wet the washcloth to put on her eyes. The ship was making a terrible noise, blowing off steam, which was a good thing, as it prevented the neighbors from hearing her. Two of the bedroom stewards were hanging round in the corridor outside. Now and then she could hear them laughing. Katy sat on the camp-chair and argued with her.

“You just put him out of your mind,” she said.

“But I can’t. You think it’s easy, Katy, but it isn’t.”

“I told you how it would be from the beginning, Peg, and you wouldn’t listen to me. He doesn’t care anything for you—don’t kid yourself. He isn’t our kind at all. You know how it is with that kind of man. He may soft-soap you, but really he looks down on us, and if he met us anywhere at home he wouldn’t even speak to us.”

Margaret moved her head from side to side on the pillow—back and forth, back and forth.

“No,” she said, “he isn’t like that. He’s in love with me. He doesn’t despise me because I’m a cook.”

“Don’t kid yourself. He might think so right now, when there’s nobody else for him to fool with, but that’s all there is to it. What’s the use getting all upset about it, anyway, with him a married man!”

Margaret blew her nose and sat up.

“It’s awful hot in here,” she said.

“I tell you what, you need a little excitement to take your mind off this business. Let’s get a glass of stout and then go down and have a bit of a dance with Pat and the girls.”

Margaret was helpless, apathetic. She didn’t care one way or the other, and she was too tired to resist. She bathed her eyes in the wash-basin, rubbed her cheeks with the towel, and tidied up her hair. Maybe Katy was right—maybe he really didn’t care for her at all. He shouldn’t have said that about her coming to his stateroom; though, of course, men’s views were so different about those things.

She felt better after the glass of stout, and they went down the dark companionway to the steerage deck—the whole crowd was out there in the moonlight, Pat with his concertina, another boy with his mouth organ. Two of the men were whirling a skipping rope, and the girls were taking turns in seeing how fast they could skip and how long they could keep it up. A lot of people were sitting along the canvas-covered hatch. Katy had a try at it, and the very first thing the rope caught her skirt and lifted it way up so that her knickers showed, and everybody laughed. Katy didn’t mind at all. She laughed as much as anybody did. She was a good sport. There was an English girl, about eighteen, who was the best at it—she would take a running start into the rope and put her hands on her hips and jump as if she was possessed. They couldn’t down her at all, and everybody clapped her when finally one of the men dropped his end of the rope.

Pat tuned up on his concertina and they began to dance. A tall young fellow named Jim, who was a carpenter, asked Margaret to dance with him, and before she had time to make up her mind about it he had grabbed her and she was dancing with him and having a good time. They had a fox-trot first, and after that there was a jig, and in the middle of this, just when she had bumped into Katy and they were both laughing, she happened to look up at the second-cabin deck, and there was Mr. Camp, looking down. She waved her hand at him.

“Come on down!” she shouted to him.

He shook his head and smiled; Mr. Carter was standing with him. Jim yanked her hand and whirled her round, and when she looked up again he was gone.

VIII.

They spent the morning in packing, and getting their landing cards, and writing letters. He wasn’t at breakfast when they were, and she took Katy’s advice and kept out of his way. At lunch she avoided looking in his direction—she knew he was there, and Katy said he kept looking toward her, but she wouldn’t look back. She guessed Katy was right. If he had really cared, he would have come down and danced with them. He was probably a snob, just as Katy said he was. After lunch she went back to the stateroom, and didn’t go out till she heard they were sailing along close to the coast of Ireland; so she went up on deck. There was a crowd all along the railing, and she and Katy wedged themselves in and stared at the cliffs and green slopes and watched the little steam trawlers wallowing up and down in what looked like a smooth sea. A tremendous lot of sea-gulls were flying over the ship, swooping down to the water for the swill that was flung overboard, and all of them mewing like cats. The idea of landing at Queenstown was beginning to be exciting. Her mother and uncle would probably come in from Tralee to meet her, and she supposed they would all spend the night in some hotel in Queenstown.

When they went in for their last tea she rather hoped that Mr. Camp would turn up, but he didn’t. By this time, most likely, he saw that she was avoiding him, and was keeping himself out of her track. Maybe his feelings were hurt. She was restless, unhappy, excited, and, try as she would, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She gulped down her two cups of tea as if she were in a hurry; but then she couldn’t find anything to be in a hurry for. Her trunk was packed, her bag was all strapped and labeled, there was nothing to do. The orchestra came in and began playing. The sound of the music made her feel like crying. Katy said she was going to see if there was a night train out of Queenstown for the north. She got down a timetable from the shelves and looked at it, but couldn’t make head or tail of it. Then two of the ladies at their table came with menus on which they were getting all their acquaintances to sign their names. She and Katy signed their names and said goodbye, in case they shouldn’t meet again, for it wasn’t certain whether they would have supper on board or not. The rumor was that they would get into Queenstown harbor about six o’clock, in which case the Queenstown passengers would have to wait and have their supper in Queenstown.

It was after dark when finally the ship swung into the harbor. They felt the engine stopping, and ran out on deck. They could see the lights all round them, and a long row of especially bright ones; there was the hotel, and another ship waiting a little way off—waiting, as they were, for the tenders to come out. Everything seemed very still, now that the engines were stopped; it was almost as if something was wrong with the ship,—unnatural. Everybody seemed to talk in lower voices. The harbor water was quieter than the ocean; it just lapped a little against the side of the ship, and there was a long narrow rowboat which had come out and was lying against the bow with two men in it, one of them giving an occasional flourish with a long oar. A light was played on them from the ship, so that they stood out very clear against the blackness of the water. Then at last they saw the tenders coming out, and they decided they had better go down and see about their things.

It was just after they had tipped the steward, and he had gone off with the trunks, and just when they heard the tender coming alongside, that Mr. Camp suddenly came to their stateroom door.

“I’ve just dropped in to say goodbye,” he said, putting his hand against one side of the doorway.

Katy saw how it was, and said she had to go out for a minute, leaving them alone. Mr. Camp stepped in then, and shut the door behind him. He put out his hand and she took it, and they shook hands for a minute, feeling embarrassed.

“Goodbye, Margaret,” he said.

“Goodbye, Mr. Camp.”

“I’ve been hunting for you all day,” he said. “Why did you hide yourself from me?”

“I thought it was better,” she said.

She felt the tears coming into her eyes and was ashamed. He suddenly put his arms around her and kissed her. She tried to turn her face away from him, and he just kissed her cheek two or three times, lightly. His arms were holding her very hard. Then he kissed her once on the mouth.

“You musn’t,” she said. “You’re a married man.”

They looked at each other for what seemed like a long while, and then they heard someone coming to the door and he let her go. Katy and the steward were there. It was time to go. Mr. Diehl came running up too, and she hurriedly put on her hat and coat. Mr. Diehl took Katy’s bag from the steward, and Mr. Camp picked up hers from the camp-chair.

They followed the other passengers and stewards with bags along the corridor, went through the first-cabin dining saloon, and then came out on to a deck where an iron door had been swung open and the gangway made fast. There was a great crowd there, and two officers standing at the top of the gangway taking the landing cards. Mr. Diehl gave Katy her handbag and tried to kiss her, right there before everybody, and she gave a screech and tried to run, but he caught her and kissed her. Then she started down the steep gangway under the bright lights. Mr. Camp handed Margaret her bag and shook hands with her again.

“Here’s my address,” he said. “Write me a letter some time, if you feel like it.”

He gave her a slip of paper, and she tucked it under her glove.

“Goodbye,” she said.

“Goodbye.”

She turned and went gingerly down the gangway, taking short steps. When she got to the deck of the tender she didn’t look for Katy, but walked right to the stern of the boat, where there was a semicircular bench, and put down her bag, and then stood and looked up at the ship. It seemed enormous, and at first she couldn’t make out where the second-cabin decks were at all. The band was playing somewhere above her, in the night, and the decks were lined with people waving handkerchiefs. They were shouting, too. She ran her eyes to and fro over the crowds, looking for Mr. Camp, but she couldn’t find him, anywhere. Maybe he wouldn’t come. Then the gangway was hauled down, the bells rang, and the tender began chugging.

Just at that minute she finally saw him. He had got a little open space of railing all to himself, and was leaning way out, waving his arm. She felt as if her heart was going to break, and threw him three long kisses, and he threw three long kisses back. The steamship whistle began blowing, the tender drew away very fast, but she could still see him waving his arm. Then she couldn’t see any more, because the tears came into her eyes, and she sat down and waited for Katy to come, and turned her head away from the ship and wished she were dead.