The three young men came to a halt outside the door. "It grows more horrible," Macklyn said. "Let's get out of this."
Then, as they turned away, the too familiar voice was heard again, "Now, gentlemen, le'ss sing something a little sweeter and more homelike.
A-sitting by the fire"
The three returned to the promenade deck below; but it seemed to them that even there some snatches of the detestable song haunted the eddying wind and blew upon their ears. Ogle thought that he could hear "Aunt Mariar" intermittently as he tramped the deck alone, long after his companions had left him and descended to read in bed in the cabin they shared. The curse had come back upon him, and he could not prevent himself from marching in time to it, though what he thought an echo of the orgy going on above may have been not actual sound, but one of those half delusions with which our minds sometimes persecute us when we are in a state of annoyance. This one was persistent enough to follow him, however, even when he left the deserted deck and again entered the lounge on his way to bed.
