There is an hour or two, after the passengers have embarked, which is disquieting and fussy.[…]Stewards, carrying cabin trunks, swarm in the corridors. Passengers wander restlessly about or hurry, with futile energy, from place to place.
Enter Barnardo, and Franciſco, two Centinels.
Then a blue button dashed to the box to pick up the call.
I say, Lu! I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I see now you were right all along. Do come out. Make it Pax.
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