"Yass," she said, "he
shall read that."
But plainly there was one thing more though the tired eyelids sank. "Let
down your ear," murmured the lips.
Hugh knelt, bent, waited. The distressed twins watched them. The hold on
his hand relaxed. He lifted and looked.
"What do he say?" tearfully asked old Joy, pressing in.
"Nothing," said Hugh; and then to the twins: "He's gone."
* * * * *
Out in the benign starlight and caressing breeze Hugh hastened to his
father's door.
XLVII
INSOMNIA
Down in the cabin, in one of its best staterooms, where all were choice,
the senator wooed slumber.
In vain. Sounds were no obstacle. They abounded but they were normal.
Except--"Peck-peck-peck" and so on, which the steady pulse of normal
sounds practically obliterated. The peck-pecking was not for him.
An unwelcome odor may keep one awake, but the senator's berth was
fragrant of fresh mattresses and new linen, the wash-stand of jasmine
soap, and the room at large of its immaculate zinc-white walls and doors
and their gilt trimmings. Nor could the cause be his supper of beefsteak
and onions, black coffee, hot rolls, and bananas, for every one about
him had had those, and every one about him was sound asleep. It could
not be for lack of the bath; he had already slept well without it too
many nights hand-running.
Pages:
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329