Well, we
parted at Sixty-sixth Street, and, strange as it may seem, I forgot all
about her."
"Do it again!"
"Tell it again?"
"Good heavens, no! Forget all about her again."
"Nothing," said Eustace Hignett gravely, "could make me do that. Our
souls have blended. Our beings have called to one another from their
deepest depths, saying ... There are your pyjamas, over in the
corner ... saying, 'You are mine!' How could I forget her after that?
Well, as I was saying, we parted. Little did I know that she was
sailing on this very boat! But just now she came to me as I writhed on
deck...."
"Did you writhe?" asked Sam with a flicker of moody interest.
"I certainly did."
"That's good!"
"But not for long."
"That's bad!"
"She came to me and healed me. Sam, that girl is an angel."
"Switch off the light when you've finished."
"She seemed to understand without a word how I was feeling. There are
some situations which do not need words. She went away and returned
with a mixture of some kind in a glass.
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