Course, it ain't any motion worth
mentionin', but somehow it sort of surprises you to find that it keeps
up so constant. It's up and down, up and down, steady as the tick of a
clock; and every time you glance over the rail or through a porthole
you see it's quite a ride you take. I didn't mind goin' up a bit; it's
that blamed feelin' of bein' let down that's annoyin'.
For a while there I was more or less busy helping Old Hickory get his
floating office straightened out and taking down a few code messages
for the wireless man to send back to the general offices while we was
still within easy strikin' distance. It was when I planted myself in a
wicker chair 'way back by the stern, and begun watchin' that slow,
regular lift and dip of the deck, that I felt this lump come in my
throat and begun wonderin' what it was I'd had for lunch that I
shouldn't. My head felt kind of mean, too, sort of dull and throbby,
and I expect I wasn't as ruddy in the face as I might have been.
Then up comes Vee, lookin' as fresh and nifty as if she was just
steppin' out on the Avenue; and before I can duck behind anything she's
spotted me.
"Why, Torchy," says she, "you don't mean to say you're feeling badly
already! Or is it because you're leaving New York?"
Then I saw my alibi.
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