And, as usual,” she continued, a little bitterly, “I seem to have been sent along with the dullest and least edifying of Mrs. Nothing. “Oh, that. She came in now with an air of reserved solicitude. It is most uncomfortable for every one concerned. I received a telegram, as you know, during dinner. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. She could not resist enduing persons she met with the noble attributes of the fictional characters. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise. She began to miss him when he was gone during the day and cherish the quiet times he spent only with her. “The Widgetts,” she said. ’ Melusine stared.
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