"You see I
know he has always hoped that I would marry Bream."
"Bream! Bream Mortimer! What a silly thing to hope!"
"Well, you see, I told you that Mr. Mortimer was father's best friend.
They are both over in England now, and are trying to get a house in the
country for the summer which we can all share. I rather think the idea
is to bring me and Bream closer together."
"How the deuce could that fellow be brought any closer to you? He's
like a burr as it is."
"Well, that was the idea, I'm sure. Of course, I could never look at
Bream now."
"I hate looking at him myself," said Sam feelingly.
A group of afflicted persons, bent upon playing with long sticks and
bits of wood, now invaded the upper deck. Their weak-minded cries
filled the air. Sam and the girl rose.
"Touching on your father once more," he said as they made their way
below, "is he a very formidable sort of man?"
"He can be a dear. But he's rather quick-tempered. You must be very
ingratiating."
"I will practise it in front of the glass every morning for the rest of
the voyage," said Sam.
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