nose, mouth, teeth and oval chin -- were in miniature. If they had been proper size, she would have been beautiful. She was a grown person and yet everything about her appeared to be infantile and it was with a guileless ingenuous innocence, like a hurt child going to its father, that she stumbled to Hubie Muller, and into his arms, where she clung crying, 'Oh my God, I'm so frightened! I'm so frightened! Hold me, hold me! Don't let me go! Please don't let me go! Oh, I'm so scared!'
Hubie Muller held the slight body close to him as she had begged, for she was shivering. He smelled the underarm body odour of fear mingled with some kind of cheap scent, but the hair on which his face now rested was clean and soft.
'Please let me stay!' she cried. 'Somefink awful has happened. I don' know what. I'm just so frightened I don't know where I am!'
'All right,' said Hubie in his soft voice, 'you're all right now.'
Miss Kinsale said, 'Why it's Miss Parry! The poor thing. She's terrified.'
Only Miss Kinsale and Rogo actually recognized her, the former because she had chatted with her several times and the latter because as a Broadway cop, he liked to have his nose in anything connected with show business. During the voyage he had got to know not only her but the entire company.
She danced in the chorus line of the cabaret that accompanied the cruise. The others had probably looked at her on an average of three times a week when performances were given and she high-kicked in unison with eleven other girls, but had never really seen her.
Rogo did not like that she was sheltering with a fellow who, if he was not a flit, was the next worse page in his book, a cream puff. He said, 'Pull yourself together, kid. You're amongst white people.'
The girl continued to cling to Muller, pressing the side of her face hard against his chest as though trying to hide. She was still trembling uncontrollably.
Then she cried, 'Where's' Sybil? Have you seen Sybil? I can't find anyone. I'm frightened! I don't know what's happened.'
Muller held the bony shoulders more tightly to try to stop the shaking that was racking her. He said, 'There, you're all right now. There's been an accident, but we'll look after you.' Then he added, 'Who's Sybil?'
'M-my roomie. She's my chum.' She gasped, 'Oh, my God, an accident?' And then looking up and seeing for the first time where she was, she held Muller off from her and cried, 'Oh dear, I'm sorry! I've done something awful. I don't know you, do I? We're not supposed to be with the gentlemen passengers. I've been having a regular cuddle, haven't I? Timmy said if she ever caught us, she'd . . .'
Muller said, 'Never mind.' He regarded the flower-like features in the small, anguished face. He had already recognized the commonness of her speech, which to the ears of The Beamer was a lower class mixture of Welsh and English. 'It's quite okay,' he repeated, 'none of us are really passengers any longer. We're all sort of sticking together here.'
The others now surrounded the strange little figure, the colour of whose hair clashed horribly with the pink of her négligée with its absurd fluffy white trimming. A piece of it had come loose from the collar and floated momentarily in the air like a thistledown, to settle by the black dancing slippers on her feet. She had retreated from Muller's arms and now she clutched the wrap more tightly about her, 'Oh, my God, I've got nothing on underneath!'
The Beamer said, 'Don't let that worry you, love, none of us are exactly overdressed.'
Muller explained, 'We've come from the dining-room. I'm Hubert Muller and this is Dr Scott who is trying to lead us up to where . . .'
More than anything it was Muller's soothing voice and his literalness that had brought the girl out of her panic. She blinked up at the big man saying, 'Oh, I know, the Minister gentleman. All the girls are crazy about him Oh, I'm sorry! I mean . . .'
Manny Rosen said, 'That's all right, he's used to it.'
The
Hubie Muller held the slight body close to him as she had begged, for she was shivering. He smelled the underarm body odour of fear mingled with some kind of cheap scent, but the hair on which his face now rested was clean and soft.
'Please let me stay!' she cried. 'Somefink awful has happened. I don' know what. I'm just so frightened I don't know where I am!'
'All right,' said Hubie in his soft voice, 'you're all right now.'
Miss Kinsale said, 'Why it's Miss Parry! The poor thing. She's terrified.'
Only Miss Kinsale and Rogo actually recognized her, the former because she had chatted with her several times and the latter because as a Broadway cop, he liked to have his nose in anything connected with show business. During the voyage he had got to know not only her but the entire company.
She danced in the chorus line of the cabaret that accompanied the cruise. The others had probably looked at her on an average of three times a week when performances were given and she high-kicked in unison with eleven other girls, but had never really seen her.
Rogo did not like that she was sheltering with a fellow who, if he was not a flit, was the next worse page in his book, a cream puff. He said, 'Pull yourself together, kid. You're amongst white people.'
The girl continued to cling to Muller, pressing the side of her face hard against his chest as though trying to hide. She was still trembling uncontrollably.
Then she cried, 'Where's' Sybil? Have you seen Sybil? I can't find anyone. I'm frightened! I don't know what's happened.'
Muller held the bony shoulders more tightly to try to stop the shaking that was racking her. He said, 'There, you're all right now. There's been an accident, but we'll look after you.' Then he added, 'Who's Sybil?'
'M-my roomie. She's my chum.' She gasped, 'Oh, my God, an accident?' And then looking up and seeing for the first time where she was, she held Muller off from her and cried, 'Oh dear, I'm sorry! I've done something awful. I don't know you, do I? We're not supposed to be with the gentlemen passengers. I've been having a regular cuddle, haven't I? Timmy said if she ever caught us, she'd . . .'
Muller said, 'Never mind.' He regarded the flower-like features in the small, anguished face. He had already recognized the commonness of her speech, which to the ears of The Beamer was a lower class mixture of Welsh and English. 'It's quite okay,' he repeated, 'none of us are really passengers any longer. We're all sort of sticking together here.'
The others now surrounded the strange little figure, the colour of whose hair clashed horribly with the pink of her négligée with its absurd fluffy white trimming. A piece of it had come loose from the collar and floated momentarily in the air like a thistledown, to settle by the black dancing slippers on her feet. She had retreated from Muller's arms and now she clutched the wrap more tightly about her, 'Oh, my God, I've got nothing on underneath!'
The Beamer said, 'Don't let that worry you, love, none of us are exactly overdressed.'
Muller explained, 'We've come from the dining-room. I'm Hubert Muller and this is Dr Scott who is trying to lead us up to where . . .'
More than anything it was Muller's soothing voice and his literalness that had brought the girl out of her panic. She blinked up at the big man saying, 'Oh, I know, the Minister gentleman. All the girls are crazy about him Oh, I'm sorry! I mean . . .'
Manny Rosen said, 'That's all right, he's used to it.'
The
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