udrey and the
parlourmaid. And all the drawers were gaping, and the doors of all the
cupboards swinging, and the narrow beds were hidden under piles of
variegated garments. And while they were engaged in the breathless business
of installing themselves in the celestial domain, strange new thoughts
flitted about like mice in Audrey's head. She felt as though she were in a
refuge from the world, and as though her conscience was being narcotised.
In that cabin, firm as solid land and yet floating on the water, with Mr.
Gilman at hand her absolute slave--in that cabin the propaganda of women's
suffrage presented itself as a very odd and very remote phenomenon, a
phenomenon scarcely real. She had positively everything she wanted without
fighting for it. The lion's share of life was hers. Comfort and luxury were
desirable and beautiful things, not to be cast aside nor scorned. Madame
Piriac was a wise woman and a good woman. She was a happy woman.... There
was a great deal of ugliness in sitting on Joy Wheels and being chased by
policemen. True, as she had heard, a crew of nineteen human beings was
necessary to the existence of Mr. Gilman and his guests on board the yacht.
Well, what then? The nineteen were undoubtedly well treated and in clover.
And the world was the world; you had to take it as you found it.... And
then in her mind she had a glimpse of the blissful face of Jane
Foley--blissful in a different way from any other face she had met in all
her life. Disconcerting, this glimpse, for an instant, but only for an
instant! She, Audrey, was blissful, too. The intense desire for joy and
pleasure surged up in her.... The bell which she had previously heard
struck three; its delicate note vibrated long through the yacht, unwilling
to expire. Half-past nine, and supper and the chivalry of Mr. Gilman
waiting for them in the elegance of the saloon!

As the two women approached the _portiere_ which screened the forward
entrance to the saloon, they heard Mr. Gilman say, in a weary and resigned
voice:

"Well, I suppose there's nothing better than a whisky and soda."

And the vivacious reply of a steward:

"Very good, sir."

The owner was lounging in a corner, with a gloomy, bored look on his face.
But as soon as the _portiere_ stirred and he saw the smiles of Madame
Piriac and Audrey upon him, his whole demeanour changed in an instant. He
sprang up, laughed, furtively smoothed his waistcoat, and managed to convey
the gener