No self-respecting man ever ought to get seasick. I don't know what I should do if I married a man who turned out to be a bad sailor. I think it would be a justifiable ground of divorce. It probably is somewhere in the States, but not being married yet I'm naturally not well up in the subject. Anyway, that Duke put me right off seasick husbands.
But I was soon to have it demonstrated that there are other drawbacks to a seasick husband besides the fact that he looks such a loon. No sooner had the seasick Duke disappeared than his Duchess, in the same case with himself, came staggering along the deck clutching for support at anything she came across in the most ungracelike way. She had almost reached the companion ladder when there was a most awful lurch that made you feel kind of churned up inside. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the boarding, murmuring feebly to the pompous man at my side, 'Oh, take me away—anywhere—oh, take me away!' I put out my hand towards the place where he stood. But no reply came, and I suddenly felt that he was no longer there. I opened my eyes. There was that perfidious monster tenderly helping the stricken Duchess past me down the ladder. I drew myself together, and followed with all the dignity I could. I remember distinctly a passionate desire to be revenged, and I pride myself upon the thought because it proves that I could not have really been so very bad at the time, as you don't even care about revenge when you are real seasick.
Alone and unaided I reached the ladies' cabin at
