I enter thy garden of roses,
Beloved and fair Haidee!
A steward touched him on the shoulder and said in German: "Lunch is ready."
Curtis turned briskly around, and followed the man half the length of the deck, struggling to drag a sentence from the unfrequented German corner of his brain. At last it came:
"I am ready, too. This sea air makes one hungry."
He was glad to see there were genuine Frankfurters for lunch. He ordered a bottle of Rhine wine and talked German with the Captain. When he came up on deck to smoke his cigar, the ship was purring through a placid, opalescent sea, and Crete was a faint outline sketched against a gray-blue sky.
THE END.