“Why? Do you think I’m a stoner?” He asked. He wriggled underneath her heaving body, pinned like an insect. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. “He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him. In a few minutes, an appalling change was perceptible. ’ ‘Ain’t you in a rage?’ asked the captain.
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