Edith, there's the
lunch bell. Take me down before I say another word." Exeunt feminines
all.
"Where did the child pick up all that?" queried Albert.
"'All that' is in the air just now," answered Norman. "It is a natural
reaction of a strong physical nature against the utilitarian views of
the day. Miss Mae is a type of--"
"O, nonsense, what prigs you are," interrupted Eric, "Mae is jolly. Do
stop your reasoning about her. If you are bound to be a potato yourself
to help save the masses from starvation, don't grumble because she grew
a flower. Come, let us go to lunch too."
Conversation was not always of this sort. One evening, not long after,
there was a moon, and Edith and Albert were missing. Eric was following
a blue-eyed girl along the deck, and Mae and Norman wandered off by
themselves up to this same hurricane deck again. The moonlight was
wonderful. It touched little groups here and there and fell full on the
face of a woman in the steerage, who sat with her arms crossed on her
knee and her face set eastward.
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