the music-room. At eleven o'clock they spoiled their appetites for lunch
with tea or bouillon to the music of a band of second-cabin stewards; at
one, a single blast of the bugle called them to lunch, where they glutted
themselves to the torpor from which they afterwards drowsed in their
berths or chairs. They did the same things in the afternoon that they had
done in the forenoon; and at four o'clock the deck-stewards came round
with their cups and saucers, and their plates of sandwiches, again to the
music of the band. There were two bugle-calls for dinner, and after
dinner some went early to bed, and some sat up late and had grills and
toast. At twelve the lights were put out in the saloons and the
smoking-rooms.

There were various smells which stored themselves up in the consciousness
to remain lastingly relative to certain moments and places: a whiff of
whiskey and tobacco that exhaled from the door of the smoking-room; the
odor of oil and steam rising from the open skylights over the
engine-room; the scent of stale bread about the doors of the
dining-saloon.

The life was like the life at a sea-side hotel, only more monotonous. The
walking was limited; the talk was the tentative talk of people aware that
there was no refuge if they got tired of one another. The flirting
itself, such as there was of it, must be carried on in the glare of the
pervasive publicity; it must be crude and bold, or not be at all.

There seemed to be very little of it. There were not many young people on
board of saloon quality, and these were mostly girls. The young men were
mainly of the smoking-room sort; they seldom risked themselves among the
steamer chairs. It was gayer in the second cabin, and gayer yet in the
steerage, where robuster emotions were operated by the accordion. The