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Updated: June 5, 2025
It was not until the evening before the Saluria was due in Hong-Kong that the sea got over its fit of temper and decided to make that last night the most beautiful one of the crossing. Everybody was down for the farewell dinner. Even those who had been invisible for two days emerged from their state-rooms like gorgeous butterflies from their cocoons.
When men and women are set adrift for four weeks, with thousands of miles of sparkling water separating them from the past and the present, and with nothing to do but observe one another, something usually happens. The present voyage of the Saluria was no exception; in fact, it threatened to break all former records.
"Eighteen hundred feet above the level of the sea, where the early inhabitants of Oahu made their last stand against the enemy." "I'm quite sure she isn't here," said Percival. Then he caught himself, and went into a rather elaborate explanation to cover his confusion. "You see, I'm looking for the purser. The purser of the Saluria, you know.
"Like a trout on a hook." He shot a glance at her. Was it possible that she had divined his state of mind? Woman's intuition was a thing of which he stood in deadly awe. But they were arriving at the dock, and there was no time to indulge in subtleties. He sprang from the wagon before it came to a halt. "The Saluria!" he demanded wildly of a man in uniform. "Has she sailed?"
"The Saluria?" repeated the man with maddening deliberation. "Let's see. Yellow funnels, ain't she? Yep, that's her a-going out of the harbor now." When Mrs. Western, anxiously watching the passengers come aboard from the last launch, had failed to see Bobby Boynton, she was partly reassured by young Vaughn, who was quite confident he had seen her on the dock.
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