able to buy a jabot, or a smart hat, or a book. You don't
know how I wanted things, and how tired I got of never
having them. I'm happy! I'm happy! Leave me alone!"

"It's an awful price to pay for a hat, and a jabot, and a
book and a theater ticket, Fan."

Ella Monahan had taken the tube, and was standing in the
great shed, watching arrivals with interest, long
before they bumped over the cobblestones of Hoboken.
The three descended to Fanny's cabin. Ella had sent
champagne--six cosy pints in a wicker basket.

"They say it's good for seasickness," she announced,
cheerfully, "but it's a lie. Nothing's good for
seasickness, except death, or dry land. But even if you do
feel miserable--and you probably will--there's something
about being able to lie in your berth and drink champagne
alone, by the spoonful, that's sort of soothing."

Heyl had fallen silent. Fanny was radiant again, and
exclamatory over her books and flowers.

"Of course it's my first trip," she explained, "and an event
in my life, but I didn't suppose that anybody else would
care. What's this? Candy? Glace fruit." She glanced
around the luxurious little cabin, then up at Heyl,
impudently. "I may be a coarse commercial person, Clancy,
but I must say I like this very, very much. Sorry."