"You have made everything perfectly clear."

"I hope--I hope you won't be unhappy."

"Unhappy!" Sam produced a strangled noise from his larynx, like the cry
of a shrimp in pain. "Unhappy! I'm not unhappy! Whatever gave you that
idea? I'm smiling! I'm laughing! I feel I've had a merciful escape."

"It's very unkind and rude of you to say that."

"It reminds me of a moving picture I saw in New York. It was called
'Saved from the Scaffold.'"

"Oh!"

"I'm not unhappy. What have I got to be unhappy about? What on earth
does any man want to get married for? I don't ... Give me my gay
bachelor life! My uncle Charlie used to say 'It's better luck to get
married than it is to be kicked in the head by a mule.' But _he_
was an optimist. Good-night, Miss Bennett. And good-bye--for ever."

He turned on his heel and strode across the deck. From a white heaven
the moon still shone benignantly down, mocking him. He had spoken
bravely: the most captious critic could not but have admitted that he
had made a good exit. But already his heart was aching.

As he drew near to his stateroom, he was amazed and disgusted to hear a
high tenor voice raised in song proceeding from behind the closed door.