“Ican’t，exceptinFrench，andthat’sworsethanEnglish，inGermany，Ihear。”
“Thenyoumustletmebeyourinterpreteruptothelastmoment。Willyou？”
Shedidnotanswer。“Itmustberatherlate，isn’tit？”sheasked。Heletherseehiswatch，andshesaid，“Yes，it’sverylate。”andledthewaywithin。“Imustlookaftermypacking；papa’salwayssoprompt，andImustjustifymyselfformakinghimletmegiveupmymaidwhenwelefthome；weexpecttogetoneinDresden。Good-night！”
Burnamylookedafterherdriftingdowntheircorridor，andwonderedwhetheritwouldhavebeenafitreturnforherexpressionofasenseofnoveltyinhimasaliterarymanifhehadtoldherthatshewasthefirstyoungladyhehadknownwhohadamaid。Thefactawedhim；MissTriscoeherselfdidnotawehimsomuch。
Thenextmorningwasmerelyatransitionalperiod，fullofturmoilanddisorder，betweenthebrokenlifeoftheseaandtheuntriedlifeoftheshore。Nooneattemptedtoresumetheroutineofthevoyage。Peoplewentandcamebetweentheirroomsandthesaloonsandthedecks，andwerenolongercarefultotaketheirownsteamerchairswhentheysatdownforamoment。