It was no wonder it had escaped our notice, for it was mostly covered by the person of the sea-sick maiden whom I had seen on the arm of the stewardess.

She was seated on it, exhaustion in every line of her figure, her head upon my travelling bag, her feet dangling over the edge until they just touched the 'S.

P., Salem, Mass., U.S.A.' painted in large red letters on the end.

She was too ill to respond to our questions, but there was no mistaking her nationality.

Her dress, hat, shoes, gloves, face, figure were American.