lad, or you'll set me off!' She made shift to soothe him, though her chin trembled.
'Well,' said he at last, picking at the arm-rest between them, 'mine's nothing much, of course.'
'Don't be a fool! That's for doctors—and mothers.'
'It's Hell,' Conroy muttered. 'It begins on a steamer—on a stifling hot night. I come out of my cabin. I pass through the saloon where the stewards have rolled up the carpets, and the boards are bare and hot and soapy.'
'I've travelled too,' she said.
'Ah! I come on deck. I walk down a covered alleyway. Butcher's meat, bananas, oil, that sort of smell.'
Again she nodded.
'It's a lead-coloured steamer, and the sea's lead-coloured. Perfectly smooth sea—perfectly still ship, except for the engines running, and her waves going off in lines and lines and lines—dull grey. All this time I know something's going to happen.'
'I know. Something going to happen,' she whispered.
'Then I hear a thud in the engine-room. Then the noise of machinery falling down—like fire-irons—and then two most awful yells. They're more like hoots, and I know—I know while I listen—that it means that two men have died as they hooted. It was their last breath hooting out of them—in most awful pain. Do you understand?'
'I ought to. Go on.'
'That's the first part. Then I hear bare feet running along the alleyway. One of the scalded
