"All mirth at sea soon fades away, Ethel. Passengers are a very dull class of people, and they know it; they rebel against it, but every hour it becomes more natural to be dull. Very soon all mentally accommodate themselves to being bored, dreamy and dreary. Then, as soon as it is dark, comes that old mysterious, hungering sound of the sea; and I for one listen till I can bear it no longer, and so steal away to bed with a pain in my heart."
"I think I shall like the ocean. There are games, and books, and company, and dinners, and other things."
"Certainly, and you can think yourself happy, until gradually a contented cretinism steals over you, body and mind."
"No, no!" said Ethel enthusiastically. "I shall do according to Swinburne-"'Have therefore in my heart, and in my mouth, The sound of song that mingles North and South; And in my Soul the sense of all the Sea!'"
And Ruth laughed at her dramatic attitude, and answered: "The soul of all the sea is a contented cretinism, Ethel. But in ten days we may be in Yorkshire. And then, my dear, you may meet your Prince--some fine Yorkshire gentleman."
"I have strictly and positively promised myself that my Prince shall be a fine American gentleman."
"My dear Ethel, it is very seldom "'the time, and the place, And the Loved One, come together.'"
"I live in the land of good hope, Ruth, and my hopes will be realized."
"We shall see."