All the way across momma implored me to become reconciled to Arthur.

In extreme moments, when it was very choppy, she composed telegrams on lines which were to drive him wild with contrition without compromising my dignity; and when I suggested the difficulty of tampering with the Atlantic cable in mid-ocean without a diving machine, she wept, hinting that, if I were a true daughter of hers, things would never have come to such a pass.

My position, from a filial point of view, was most trying.
I could not deny my responsibility for momma's woes--she never left her cabin--yet I was powerless to put an end to them.

Young women in novels have thrown themselves into the arms of the wrong man under far less parental pressure, but although it was indeed the hour the man was not available.

Neither, such was the irony of circumstances, would our immediate union have affected the motion in the slightest degree.