P. G. Wodehouse

“ Of course, I could never look at Bream now.”
“I hate looking at him myself,” said Sam feelingly.
A group of afflicted persons, bent upon playing with long sticks and bits of wood, now invaded the upper deck. Their weak-minded cries filled the air. Sam and the girl rose.
“Touching on your father once more,” he said as they made their way below, “is he a very formidable sort of man?”
“He can be a dear. But he's rather quick-tempered. You must be very ingratiating.”
“I will practise it in front of the glass every morning for the rest of the voyage,” said Sam. ”

“ Others, more energetic, strode up and down. From the point of view of a man who wished to reveal his most sacred feelings to a beautiful girl, the place was practically Fifth Avenue and Forty-second Street.
“It's so crowded,” he said. “Let's go on to the upper deck.”
“All right. You can read to me. Go and fetch your Tennyson.”
Sam felt that fortune was playing into his hands. His four-days' acquaintance with the bard had been sufficient to show him that the man was there forty ways when it came to writing about love. ”

“ I mean that poor old Eustace is so far below you, darling, that, with the most charitable intentions, one can only look on his asking you to marry him in the light of a record exhibition of pure nerve. A dear, good fellow, of course, but hopeless where the sterner realities of life are concerned. ”

“ How would you like to become the father—and a mere glance around you will show you that the chances are enormously in favour of such a thing happening—of a boy with spectacles and protruding front teeth who asks questions all the time? ”

“ There was a third pause.
“On second thoughts,” said Bream, “I believe I'll take a stroll on the promenade deck, if you don't mind.”
They said they did not mind. Bream Mortimer, having bumped his head twice against overhanging steel ropes, melted away.
“Who is that fellow?” demanded Sam wrathfully.
“He's the son of father's best friend.”
Sam started. Somehow this girl had always been so individual to him that he had never thought of her having a father.
“We have known each other all our lives,” continued Billie. “Father thinks a tremendous lot of Bream. ”

“ This morning, however, the devotees of this pastime were apparently under proper restraint, for the deck was empty.
“This is jolly,” he said, sitting down beside the girl and drawing a deep breath of satisfaction.
“Yes, I love this deck. It's so peaceful.”
“It's the only part of the ship where you can be reasonably sure of not meeting stout men in flannels and nautical caps. An ocean voyage always makes me wish that I had a private yacht.”
“It would be nice.”
“A private yacht,” repeated Sam sliding a trifle closer. ”

“ The fact was that, as he towelled his glowing back, he had suddenly come to the decision that this very day he would propose to Wilhelmina Bennett. Yes, he would put his fortune to the test, to win or lose it all. True, he had only known her for four days, but what of that?
Nothing in the way of modern progress is more remarkable than the manner in which the attitude of your lover has changed concerning proposals of marriage. ”

“ How would you like to become the father ...?”
“There is no need to be indelicate,” said Sam stiffly. “A man must take these chances.”
“Give her the miss in baulk,” pleaded Hignett. “Stay down here for the rest of the voyage. You can easily dodge her when you get to Southampton. And, if she sends messages, say you're ill and can't be disturbed.”
Sam gazed at him, revolted. More than ever he began to understand how it was that a girl with ideals had broken off her engagement with this man. He finished dressing, and, after a satisfying breakfast, went on deck. ”

“ A man who can't even stop a dog-fight! In a world which is practically one seething mass of fighting dogs, how could you trust yourself to such a one? Nobody is fonder of Eustace Hignett than I am, but ... ”

“ Women are the devil, whether they marry you or jilt you. Do you realise that women wear black evening dresses that have to be hooked up in a hurry when you are late for the theatre, and that, out of sheer wanton malignity, the hooks and eyes on those dresses are also made black? ”