linen strewn about on the dirty boards, all soiled and rumpled and
useless!

When the colonel's turn came, Warburton moved within hearing
distance. How glorious she looked in that smart gray traveling habit!
With what well-bred indifference she gazed upon the scene! Calmly her
glance passed among the circles of strange faces, and ever and anon
returned to the great ship which had safely brought her back to her
native land. There were other women who were just as well-bred and
indifferent, only Warburton had but one pair of eyes. Sighs in the
_doloroso_ again. Ha! if only one of these meddling jackasses
would show her some disrespect and give him the opportunity of
avenging the affront!

(Come, now; let me be your confessor. Have you never thought and
acted like this hero of mine? Haven't you been just as melodramatic
and ridiculous? It is nothing to be ashamed of. For my part, I should
confess to it with the same equanimity as I should to the mumps or
the measles. It comes with, and is part and parcel of, all that
strange medley we find in the Pandora box of life. Love has no
diagnosis, so the doctors say. 'Tis all in the angle of vision.)

But nothing happened. Colonel Annesley and his daughter were old
hands; they had gone through all this before. Scarce an article in
their trunks was disturbed. There was a slight duty of some twelve
dollars (Warburton's memory is marvelous), and their luggage was
free. But alas, for the perspicacity of the inspectors! I can very
well imagine the god of irony in no better or more fitting place than
in the United States Customs House.