Nothing they would do would be
right to her and nothing she would do or say would be right to them.
She took infinite pleasure in her plan of campaign. Then when she
was enjoying the pleasure of such resentful dreams she would think
of her father waiting for news of her: of his pride in her: of how
much he wanted her to succeed. She would realise how much the
parting meant to HIM, and all her little plots would tumble down and
she would resolve to try and please her relations, learn all she
could, succeed beyond all expression and either go back to America
prosperous, or send for her father to join her in England. All her
dreams had her father, either centrifugally or centripetally,
beating through them.
She refused all advances of friendship aboard ship. No one dared
speak to her. She wanted to be alone in her sorrow. She and
"MICHAEL" would romp on the lower deck, by favour of one of the
seamen, who would keep a sharp look-out for officers.
This seaman--O'Farrell by name--took quite a liking to Peg and the
dog and did many little kindly, gracious acts to minister to the
comfort of both of them.
He warned her that they would not let "Michael" go with her from the
dock until he had first been quarantined. This hurt Peg more than
anything could.
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