And Maundering, Piffle and Drool had long since cornered the romance market.

The King's Highway had become No Thoroughfare.
America.

He would go to the land of the brave (when occasion demanded) and the free (if you were imaginative).

Having packed his trunk and valise, he departed for Liverpool.

Besides, America was all that was left; he was at the end of his rope.
What a rollicking old fraud life was! Swung out of his peaceful orbit, by the legerdemain of death; no longer a humble steady star but a meteor; bumping as yet darkly against the planets; and then this monumental folly which had returned him to the old orbit but still in meteoric form, without peace or means of livelihood! An ass, indeed, if ever there was one.
He eventually arrived at his destination, lied blithely to the chief steward, and was assigned to the first-class cabins on the promenade deck, simply because his manner was engaging and his face pleasing to the eye.