r the
influence of this music my thoughts became less exact; they drifted. My
eyes shifted to the lights of the 'Porcupine' in the distance, and from
them again to the figures passing and repassing me on the deck. The
"All's well" of the look-out seemed to come from an endless distance;
the swish of water against the dividing hull of the 'Fulvia' sounded
like a call to silence from another world; the phosphorescence swimming
through the jarred waters added to the sensation of unreality and
dreams. These dreams grew, till they were broken by a hand placed on
my shoulder, and I saw that one of the passengers, Clovelly, an English
novelist, had dropped out from the promenade to talk with me. He saw
my mood, however, and said quietly: "Give me a light for my cigar, will
you? Then, astride this stool, I'll help you to make inventory of the
rest of them. A pretty study; for, at our best, 'What fools we mortals
be!'"

"'Motley is your only wear,'" was my reply; and for a full half-hour,
which, even for a man, is considerable, we spoke no word, but only
nodded when some one of the promenaders noticed us. There was a
bookmaker fresh from the Melbourne races; an American, Colonel Ryder,
whose eloquence had carried him round the world; a stalwart squatter
from Queensland; a pretty widow, who had left her husband under the sods
of Tasmania; a brace of girls going to join their lovers and be married
in England; a few officers fleeing from India with their livers and
their lives; a family of four lanky lasses travelling "home" to school;
a row of affable ladies, who alternated between envy and gaiety and
delight in, and criticism of, their husbands; a couple of missionaries,
preparing to give us lectures on the infamous gods of the heathen,--gods
which, poor harmless little creatures! might be bought at a few annas a
pint at Aden or Colombo,--and on the Exodus and the Pharaohs--pleasures
reserved for the Red Sea; a commercial traveller, who arranged
theatricals, and cast himself for all the principal parts; a humorous
and naive person who industriously hinted at the opulence of his estates
in Ireland; two stately English ladies of title; a cheerful array
of colonial knights and judges off to Europe for a holiday; and many
others, who made little worlds unto themselves, called cliques by blunt
people.

"To my mind, the most interesting persons on the ship," said Clovelly at
last, "are the bookmaker, Miss Treherne, and the lady with