construct some cobwebbings of plot about a charming central figure, "Madame Momoro—Madame la Marquise de Momoro," he would call her, perhaps. One of his reasons for being aboard the "Duumvir" was his belief that he would do well to get away from plays and the theatre for a while; but the dramatist's habit of mind prevailed: "Momoro" began to wind him up as if he had been clockwork. He lay back in his chair, languidly watching the rhythmic ascent and descent of the rail against green sea and blue sky; and before long he was selecting a cast for "Momoro" which he decided would be an excellent title. Elsie Grennell, that beautiful brunette, would play "Madame de Momoro;"—of course a heroine of that name should be dark.
As the afternoon wore on, the ship's motion became steadily less emphatic; the January sharpness of the air grew gentler over the softer sea, yet remained bracing; more passengers gained confidence enough to forget their introspections, trusted themselves upon their feet and set forth upon a brisker and brisker promenading; the stricken, no longer limp, began to sit up and look about them; laughter was heard along the decks. Then, since everywhere this blither spirit seemed to breathe, Ogle felt it and forgot
