with you 'til we meet again!

The slurring, sentimental sounds became extraordinarily human and moving
in the dusky glow, and he felt tempted to hum the words under his breath
in harmony with the singers in the steerage; but two men were standing
behind him, and he was afraid they would overhear him. He could hear one
of them saying to his companion, "I always say, eat as much as you can
stuff inside you, an' run the risk of bein' sick. Some people makes a
point of eatin' nothin' at all when they're crossin' the Channel, but
they're sick all the same, an' they damn near throw off their insides. A
drop of whiskey is a good thing!..."

The boat was making way now, and the people on the quay were ceasing to
have separate outlines: they were merging in a big, dark blur under the
yellow light. Henry could not see his father at the spot where he had
stood when the ship moved away, and he felt disappointed when he thought
to himself that the old man had not waited until the last moment. Then
he saw a figure hurrying along the quays, waving a large white
handkerchief.... It was his father, trying to keep pace with the boat,
and Henry shouted to him and waved his hands to him in a kind of
delirium. Gradually the boat outstripped the old man, and at last he
stood still and watched it disappearing into the darkness. He was still
waving to Henry, but no sound came from him. He seemed to be terribly
alone there on the dark quay.... Henry shuddered in the night air, and
glancing about him saw that most of the passengers had gone down to the
saloon or to their cabins. He, too, was almost alone. He turned to look
again at his father, straining to catch the last glimpse of him, and
while he was straining thus, he heard the old man's voice vibrating
across the river to him. "Good-bye Henry!" he shouted. "God bless you,
son!" and Henry felt that he must leap overboard and swim back to the
shore. He waved his handkerchief towards the place where his father was
standing and tried to shout "Good-bye, father!" to him, but his voice
rattled weakly in his throat, and he felt tears starting in his eyes.

"It's silly of me to behave like this," he murmured to himself, rubbing
his eyes with his hand.

The boat had passed between the Twin Islands and was now sailing swiftly
down the Lough towards the Irish Sea. The lights on the quay faded into
a faint yellow blur, like little lost stars, and presently, when the
cold airs of the sea struck him s