eaps and the
lapping water. It was an inferno of shifting lights and long leaping
shadows.

I watched till daylight blotted out the yellow glare of the lanterns.
Then I went home to get some sleep. And late that night when I came back
I found her almost ready to sail.

Out of taxis and automobiles chugging down in front of the pier, the
passengers were pouring in. Many were in evening clothes, some just come
from dinners and others from box parties. The theaters had just let out.
The rich warm hues of the women's cloaks, the gay head dresses here and
there and the sparkling earrings, immaculate gloves and dainty wanton
slippered feet, kept giving flashes of color to this dark freezing ocean
place. Most of these people went hurrying up into the warm, gorgeous
cafe of the ship, which was run from a hotel in Paris. What had all this
to do with the sea?

"Come on," said the genial press agent. "You're the company's
guest-to-night."

And while we ate and drank and smoked, and the tables around us filled
with people whose ripples and bursts of laughter rose over the
orchestra's festive throb, and corks kept popping everywhere, he told me
where they were going, these gay revellers, for their Christmas Day--to
London, Brussels, Berlin and Vienna, Paris, Nice, Monte Carlo, Algiers.

"Now come with me," he said at last, and he took me along warm
passageways to the row of cabins de luxe.

First we looked into the Bridal Suite, to which one of the Pittsburgh
makers of steel, having just divorced a homely old wife, was presently
to bring his new bride, a ravishing young creature of musical comedy
fame. They had been married that afternoon. A French maid was unpacking
dainty shimmering little gowns, soft furry things and other things of
silk and lace, and hanging them up in closets. It was a large room, and
there were other rooms adjoining and two big luxurious baths. The cost
of it all was four thousand dollars for the five days. There were tall
mirrors and dressing tables, there were capacious easy chairs. Low
subdued lights were here and there, and a thick rug was on the floor.
Over in one corner was a huge double bed of cream colored wood with rich
soft quilts upon it. Beside the bed in a pink satin cradle there lay a
tiny Pekinese dog.

"Next," he whispered. We peeped into the next stateroom, and there
divided from her neighbors by only one thin partition, a sober, wrinkled
little old lady in black velvet sat quietly re