“C. Q.”; or, In the Wireless House
bered with a strange revulsion of feeling his dream of the early morning and how the “Tove” had clasped him in her arms with a glittering, silvery laugh and drawn him over the side and down into the stinging depths, and he was still struggling in her embrace when the notes of “Roast Beef of Old England” recalled him to the reality of an empty stomach and his onerous duties as an officer who ranked the barber and the head second-cabin steward.
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