The vast hulk sank alternately at
either end, and to fearsome depths of the sea. There would come a last
plunge. He tightened the life-belt.
Then, through the compelling force of associated ideas, there seemed to
come to him the faint sweet scent of lilac blossoms ... the vision of a
lilac clump revolving both vertically and horizontally ... the noisome
fumes of Grammer's own pipe.
"Too much for you, eh? Ha, ha, ha!" It was the scoundrel from Hartford,
malignantly cheerful. He was inhaling a cubeb cigarette.
"Lumbago!" said Bean, both hands upon the life-belt.
"'As a man thinketh, so is he!' As simple as that," admonished the
other.
Bean groped for the door and for ages fled down blind corridors, vainly
seeking that little old stateroom. He did not find it as quickly as he
should have; but he was there at last, and a deft steward quickly
divested him of the life-belt and other garments for which there no
longer seemed to be any need.
He lay weakly reflecting, with a sinister glee, that the boat was bound
to sink in a moment. He wanted it to sink. Death was coming too slowly.
Later he knew that the flapper was there. She had come to die with him,
though she was plainly not in a proper state of mind to pass on. She was
saying that something was the nerviest piece of work she'd ever been up
against, and that she would perfectly just fix them ... only give her a
little time--they were snoop-cats!
"You'll perfectly manage; jus' leave it to you," breathed her moribund
husband.
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