Chapter Four: First and Third Class Parties
It was proof, in Jack's opinion, of how much appearances mattered to people. In the first class dining room, people treated him very differently than they had on deck. The stewards bowed to him, and called him sir. Ladies dressed in silk and ostrich feathers waved politely when they saw him, and gentlemen nodded in his direction. It was a new experience for him, and he suddenly had a very good idea of how Rose must've felt when she gone down to steerage that morning. The first class entry hall looked like a palace. When he walked in the door, the first thing he'd noticed was the large dome on the ceiling; it was made of glass and wrought iron, and light spilled through it. The landing was carpeted and furnished with comfortable-looking chairs, and the windows were stained glass. Oil paintings hung on the wall, and an ornate wooden clock with two angels carved into it headed the giant double staircase going through the middle of the room. The oak balustrades were elaborately carved and gilded, and the wood was polished. At the bottom of the balustrade going between the two stairs, there was a statue of a child-like angel holding a torch. The bottom floor of the entry hall could be seen from the landing, and wooden pillars supported it. Several plants decorated this floor, and the tiles were black and white. Jack leaned up against one of the pillars as he waited at the bottom of the stairs for Rose; he looked at what everyone else was doing, hoping to pick up on their general manners. (He had probably embarrassed Rose enough with the spitting, so if he could play the part of a gentlemen for the night, he was sure she'd like it.) Everyone stood up very straight, and did not lean up against any pillars or walls (he had quickly stopped leaning when he realized this), and he imitated the gentleman across the room who had his arm placed behind his back in a princely manner.
"Do you know there are several tons of Hockley steel in this very ship?"
Jack turned to see Cal escorting Rose's mother down the stairs, and he tried to make eye-contact, but they didn't seem to recognize him.
"Hmm." Rose's mother replied. "Which part?"
"The right ones of course."
"Then we'll know who to hold accountable if there's a problem- where's my daughter?"
"Oh, she'll be along." Cal replied, walking over to a group of people he knew and talking to them, ignoring Jack, who was about to say something but then thought better of it.
He kissed a women's hand in greeting, and Jack made a mental note of this, having wondered before if that was in fact proper behavior.
Rose walked down the stairs, her sequined dress dragging behind her, hair pins that held elaborate curls in place jabbing into her skull, heavy jewelry weighing on her neck, and high heels cutting her ankles. She showed no discomfort though, this was an everyday pain, and for once, she was excited for dinner, because she was counting on Jack to liven things up.
And he had not disappointed her so far. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, greeting an imaginary person in a very proper way, before he realized that she was watching. And when he saw her, the look in his eyes was satisfactory payment for the jabbing hairpins, the weighing jewelry, cutting shoes, and dragging train. But his appearance surprised her. He was dressed up in a black suit, and his hair was combed back. It was a very different look for him, and if she hadn't seen him before, she would've thought he was a millionaire. And for a moment, it scared her, how refined he looked. And her heart beat faster when she subconsciously realized how very handsome he was. He took her hand as she reached him, and kissed it in a slow, exaggerated way.
But then he looked at her with twinkling eyes and said, "I saw that in a nickelodeon once, and I've always wanted to do it."
Rose laughed as he extended his arm to her and held his head up in a ridiculous fashion- imitating the unnatural posture of just about everyone in the room.
"Darling," She said to Cal, who was conversing the Countess of Rothes. "Surely you remember Mr. Dawson?"
Cal looked at Jack, and it took him a minute to recognize him.
"Dawson?" He chuckled. "Well, it's amazing, you could almost pass for a gentleman."
"Almost." Jack agreed.
"Extraordinary." Cal said, taking one more surprised look at Jack and walking into the dining room. Rose sighed, and exchanging a knowing look with Jack, who grinned.
"There's the Countess of Rothes." Rose whispered as they entered the dining room, pointing to a brown haired woman in deep conversation with Captain Smith. "And, um, that's John Jacob Astor- the richest man on the ship. His little wifey there Madeline's my age, and in delicate condition. . . see how she's trying to hide it?" Rose continued, pointing this time to a mustached gentleman in his late forties standing beside a pregnant girl dressed in a gold-colored dress. "Quite the scandal. . . and that's Benjamin Guggenheim, and his mistress, Madame Aubert." She said, looking at a blond man who was talking with an attractive brunette. "Mrs. Guggenheim is at home with the children of course. And over here we have Sir Cosmo and Lucille Lady Duff-Gordon."
Those two were conversing with her Mother and Cal- they were an elderly couple, Sir Cosmo had a fine mustache, and Mrs. Duff-Gordon was wearing a black sequined dress, and waved when she saw Rose looking at her.
"She designs naughty lingerie- among her many talents." Rose waved back. "Very popular with the royals."
Jack chuckled. "And you say that this stuff's boring."
"Care to escort a lady to dinner?" Molly asked, walking up behind them. She was wearing a frilly grey dress, and had on red lipstick.
"Certainly." Jack replied, offering his other arm to Molly, who took it.
"Sweet pea?" She heard Cal call from up ahead, but she ignored him. Jack and Molly were much better company than he and Mother were.
"Ain't nothin' to it, is there Jack?" Molly said. "Remember, they love money, so just pretend like you own a gold mine, and you're in the club."
And then she yelled, "Hey, Astor!"
If John Jacob Astor was at all surprised at being greeted like this, he hid it very well.
"Hello, Molly." He replied.
"J.J., Madeline, I'd like you to meet Jack Dawson." Rose told them.
"How do you do?" Jack said politely, shaking Madeline's hand.
"Pleasure." She replied.
"Hello, Jack." Mr. Astor said. "Are you of the Boston Dawsons?"
"No, the Chippewa Falls Dawsons actually."
"Oh, yes."
Jack must've been nervous, but he never faltered. Everyone assumed he was one of them- heir to a railroad fortune perhaps, new money, obviously, but still, part of the club. They sat down to dinner at a round table with lamps and pink flowers at the center. Jack sat across from her, and was sitting in between Molly and the Countess, and next to Molly was Mr. Andrews, who sat by Rose, who sat by Cal who sat by Mother, who sat by Sir Cosmos, who sat by Lady Duff Gordon, who sat by Benjamin Guggenheim, who sat by Madame Aubert, who sat by Colonel Archibald Gracie (the mustached gentleman who'd been on deck after Rose "slipped"), who sat next to Bruce Ismay, who sat by the Countess.
There were fourteen of them total, and everything was getting along nicely, when Mother, who could always be counted on said, "Tell us of the accommodations in steerage, Mr. Dawson. I hear they're quite good on this ship."
Rose's blood boiled at the comment, but Jack was ready for her.
"Best I've seen, ma'am. Hardly any rats."
Everyone laughed but Mother.
"Mr. Dawson is joining us from third class- he was of some assistance to my fiance last night." Cal explained.
"It turns out that Mr. Dawson is quite the fine artist. He was kind enough to show me some of his work today." Rose added.
"Rose and I differ somewhat in our taste in fine art." Cal said absently, as a waiter served him caviar. "Not to impugn your work, sir."
He told Jack, who shook his head dismissively and looked anything but offended. But he hadn't put his napkin on his lap either, so Rose cleared her throat and descretely motioned for him to do so.
"She may be mine on paper, but in the eyes of God, she belongs to Thomas Andrews." Ismay was saying, talking once again about Titanic.
But Rose had heard Jack whisper to Molly, after looking at the collection of silver wear surrounding his plate, "Are these all for me?"
"Start from the outside and work your way in." She whispered back.
"He knows every rivet in her, don't you Thomas?" Ismay continued.
"Your ship is a wonder, Mr. Andrews, truly." Rose told him.
"Thank you, Rose." He replied, his kind eyes smiling.
"And how do you take your caviar, sir?" The white-suited waiter asked Jack.
"No caviar for me, thanks." Jack replied. "Never did like it much."
Rose smiled, having wanted to tell the waiter that for years now. It was so salty and disgusting. Mother saw this as another opportunity to attack.
"And where, exactly do you live, Mr. Dawson?" She asked.
"Well, right now my address is the R.M.S Titanic. After that, I'm on God's good humor." He replied.
"And how is it you have means to travel?" Mother asked with false curiosity.
"I work my way from place to place. You know, tramp steamers and such." Jack answered, scratching his nose. "But I won my ticket on Titanic here at a lucky hand at poker." He looked at Rose. "A very lucky hand." He said, and she blushed.
"All life is a game of luck." Archibald Gracie said.
"A real man makes his own luck, Archie." Cal replied. "Right, Dawson?"
Jack nodded, not having much of a choice since he was a guest.
"And you find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you?" Mother asked, dropping all friendly pretenses and sounding cold.
Molly glared at her.
"Well, yes, ma'am, I do." Jack told her sincerely. "I mean, I got everything I need right here with me. Got air in my lungs, and a few blank sheets of paper. I mean, I love waking up in the morning not knowing what's going to happen, or who I'm going to meet, or where I'm going to wind up." He took a bite of his roll. "Just the other night, I was sleeping under a bridge, and now here I am on the grandest ship in the world having champagne with you fine people. . ." He held out his glass to the waiter, who was passing and said, "I'll have some more of that. I figure life's a gift, and I don't intend on wasting it. You never know what hand you're going to get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you- here you go, Cal."
He tossed a package of matches across the table to Cal, who was trying to light a cigarette, but had nothing to light it with.
"To make each day count." He finished.
"Well said, Jack." Molly told him.
"Hear hear." Said Archibald.
Rose raised her glass, and said, looking at Jack, "To making it count."
"To making it count." Everyone chorused, raising their glasses likewise.
And Mother was bested.
"Mr. Brown had no idea I'd hid the money in the stove, so he comes home, drunk as a pig celebrating and he lights a fire!" Molly laughed, as they finished dessert.
There had been no more snide comments from Mother, and everyone had included Jack with kindness, much to Rose's satisfaction.
"Next it'll be brandies in the smoking room." Rose said in an undertone to Jack.
Sure enough, Archie stood up and said, "Well, join me for a brandy, gentleman?"
There was a quiet rumble of agreement from the men around the table and Rose whispered, "Now they retreat into a cloud of smoke and congratulate each other on being masters of the universe."
"Ladies, thank you for the pleasure of your company." Bruce Ismay said pompously, standing along with the others.
"Rose, may I escort you back to the cabin?" Cal asked her.
"No, I'll stay here."
"Here you go, Molly." Jack said quietly, handing what looked like a pencil back to her, and she shoved it in her purse.
"Are you joining us, Dawson?" Archie asked. "You don't want to stay out here with the women, do you?"
"No thanks." Jack replied. "I'd better be heading back."
"Probably best." Cal added, failing to sound disappointed that Jack was not coming, as all the politeness he'd feigned at dinner diminished. "It'll all be business and politics. That sort of thing. Wouldn't interest you."
He started walking away. "But Dawson, good of you to come." He added, throwing the matches back to him.
"Jack, must you go?" Rose asked, as he walked over to say goodnight to her.
"Time for me to go row with the other slaves." He replied, taking her hand and kissing it, and as he did, slipping a piece of paper into her fingers. "Good night, Rose."
She waited until he was gone before looking at the paper, for only when he had gone did Mother stop watching her. It was folded into squares, and it said in messy cursive:
"Make it count, meet me at the clock."
What in the world is that supposed to mean? Rose thought, reading again over the words, "make it count, meet me at the clock."
Should she?
It's probably not a good idea. He's practically a stranger to me.
A very nice stranger. A voice in her head told her slyly. And you want to. . .
Yes, but what would Mother and Cal say? I don't even know what he wants. She answered the voice sensibly.
Well, there can't be any harm in seeing. The sly voice argued. I don't believe Mother or Cal have any rules against meeting someone at a clock, strict as they are. And getting to talk to Jack is a lot better than sitting here listening to Mother talk to her friends.
The voice was making a very good argument.
"I'm going to go take a walk." Rose told her mother, standing. "I'll see you later."
The clock struck eight as she nervously as she walked up the stairs, and Jack was waiting on the landing.
"So do you want to go to a real party?" He asked, smiling.
"What?" Rose asked, bewildered.
"A real party." He repeated. "A fun one, where no one talks about politics and the stock market for an hour."
"And where would you find one of those?"
"Down in the third class general room."
"You want me to go with you to a party in steerage?" Rose asked him.
"Yes." He replied simply.
"And why would I do such a thing?" Rose said, acting properly appalled at the idea, though really intrigued and flattered.
"Because I think you'll have a good time." Jack answered.
She looked behind her, checking to make sure Mother and Cal weren't in the vicinity.
"All right." She agreed. "But I probably won't stay for very long."
Jack looked almost surprised. "And here I was thinking you'd be hard to convince."
"I'm not staying long." She told him again.
"Well, then we'd better get going." He said. "This way."
He started to walk down the stairs into the dining room.
"Where are you going?" She asked.
"Well, we can cut through the dining room to the aftwell deck to-"
"Couldn't we take an elevator?" Rose interrupted, not wanting to run into her mother by going back to the dining room.
"I didn't even know they had them." Jack said.
"Well, they're this way." Rose told him, walking towards them.
"You aren't by any chance avoiding people, are you?" Jack asked her, as she stepped into the gold-grated elevator.
"C-deck." She told the operator, and then she looked at Jack. "Don't be ridiculous, of course not." She said as they were lowered down, and let out on a corridor in C-deck.
"Just curious." He replied.
"I have no reason to avoid anyone." Rose said. "It's just that the elevator was much faster. And haste is quite necessary since-"
"You aren't staying long?"
"Precisely." She said.
"Well, thank you for gracing us with your presence." Jack told her sarcastically, as they walked down the corridor.
"You're welcome." She replied, and they both laughed.
"Here we are." Jack said, as they reached a double door.
He blocked it before she could walk in, and she could hear a cacophony of noises from the inside of the room, like laughing and music and loud voices.
"Now, I have to warn you, this is a little bit different than the party we just came from." He said. "So don't be horrified."
"I won't be." She replied, and he opened the door for her.
It looked as though everyone in third class had been crammed inside the general room, and it seemed a very busy place. In the center of the room, there was a rustic-looking band playing lively Irish folk tunes, and surrounding them were an assortment of dancers- there were couples, groups of just men, groups of just women, and even children, laughing gaily while they danced around the room, barely avoiding collision with each other. At the outskirts of all this was tables and chairs pushed up against the wall, and the people who weren't dancing sat or stood around them- drinking, smoking, and talking loudly. It was warm in the room, and very noisy from all the talking, laughing and music (there were even occasional shouts produced from the fights of drunken men, who pushed each other into tables), and the only brightness came from the lamps.
"Want to go sit down?" Jack asked her, grinning widely at her expression.
"Yes." Rose said uncertainly, feeling out of place. They pushed their way across the room, where Jack saw his friend Tommy and waved.
"Tommy!" He said, making his way over to his table.
"I was wondering what happened to you." Tommy replied.
"Long story." Jack said. "Rose, I'd like you to meet Tommy. Tommy. this is Rose."
"Hello." Tommy said kindly, smiling at her as she shook his hand.
"Are these seats taken?" Jack asked.
"No."
"Great." He pulled out a chair for Rose and sat down next to her, when the music stopped and Jack's other friend Fabrizio came tumbling out of no where, accompanied by a blonde girl wearing a simple black dress.
"Where have you been?" He asked Jack.
"I'll tell you about it later." Jack responded dismissively. "Rose, this Helga Dahl. Helga, this is Rose."
He introduced her to the blonde girl.
"And this is Fabrizio."
"Hyggelig a mote deg." Helga greeted.
"Pleasure." Said Rose, standing as she shook her hand.
"Uncle Jack." Someone said, and Rose had to look down to see the speaker, who was a little girl with curly brown hair and dimpled cheeks.
"Yes, Cora?" Jack inquired, bending down to talk to her.
"You said you'd dance." She told him simply.
Jack looked at Rose hesitantly.
"Don't let me stop you." She said.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm fine." Rose told him.
So for the next half-hour she sat at the table with Tommy, clapping in tune to the music as she watched Jack dance with Cora. He was a very good dancer, even if his partner was nearly three times shorter than he was. He had a lively spring in his step and was obviously enjoying himself greatly- perhaps even as much as Cora, whose joy seemed through the roof.
"Talla frikken svenska?" The man across the table asked her.
"What?" Rose asked loudly over the noise.
He repeated himself.
"I can't understand you." Rose told him, grabbing a glass of beer sitting on the table and drinking it, as cheers erupted from the room when the last song ended.
"I'm going to dance with her now, all right?" Jack told Cora, walking over to Rose.
"Come on." He said, as the band struck up another tune that sounded a lot like "John Ryan's Polka."
"What?" Rose asked.
"Come with me." He told her.
"What, Jack-" He took her by the arm, and pulled her to the dance floor.
"Jack, wait!"
But he seemed to have every intention of dancing with her.
"I can't do this." She said.
"We're going to have to get a little bit closer."
He put his hand on her back, and pushed her towards him. "Like this."
He looked at Cora, who seemed hurt that he was dancing with someone else.
"You're still my best girl, Cora." He said, and she brightened considerably.
"I don't know the steps." Rose protested as the dance began.
"Neither do I, just go with it." Jack told her, as the speed picked up. "Don't think."
"Wait, Jack! Jack, wait! Stop, Jack!" She cried- they were not even dancing in the academic sense.
They were basically prancing across the room while turning in circles and avoiding other dancers. . . and it was fun. Round and round they went, Jack leading, and her trying to keep up with him, laughing and squealing in delight. The music got faster and faster and so did they- so fast that sweat was gathering on her forehead, and her heart was beating such a rapid rythm that she could've thrown up. Her high heels were killing her, and her curls were going limp, but she didn't care, and smiled uncontrollably. She knew that she should've told him that she didn't want to dance, and gone back to sit down. . . but deep down she did not want to.
But he did stop, and he pulled her to a platform near the center of the room, where Helga and Fabrizio were dancing, and dragged her up onto it.
"Jack, no. . ." She started.
He jigged in perfect time to the music on top of those scuffed floor boards, and she watched in admiration. Caught in the moment, she took her heels off, handed them to an onlooker, and, to Jack's surprise, hoisted up her dragging skirt, and jigged almost as well as him. And then he jigged again, better, as though competing against her, and when he was done, she jigged the best she had ever jigged in her entire life. Then the two of them linked arms and spun in a circle several times, before a dizzying change of direction. He let go of her arm, and held out his hands to her, crossing his wrists- she did likewise and took his hands, and then, like in a childish game, they spun around- faster and faster, till the whole world was blurry except Jack's laughing face. And then the song ended, so they stopped spinning; it was as though the world had been tilted sideways. Jack grabbed her arm.
"Don't fall off the platform." He said, as she regained her balance.
"That was fun." Rose told him. And the band was playing another song.
"Want to go again?" Jack asked her. "Or do you have to leave?"
"Why would I leave?"
"Well, you made it very clear you aren't staying long so-"
"I'll leave when I feel like leaving." Rose said mischievously, grabbing him by the hand. "But right now I feel like dancing."
So they danced for what felt like a very short time, but was really almost an hour.
"Let's get something to drink." Rose said after another song ended.
So they walked back over to their table where Jack grabbed two glasses of beer and handed one to Rose, who started drinking it immediately. Jack was watching her with a mixture of awe and confusion.
"What? You think a first-class girl can't drink?" She asked him.
A man stumbled drunkenly into Jack, who spilled half of his beer on her.
"Get out of here." Jack told the man, shoving him away. "Are you all right?" He asked Rose.
But she was laughing. Tommy was in the middle of arm wrestling someone, and after being beaten exclaimed, "Two out of three!"
"So. . . you think you're big tough men?" Rose asked them, grabbing the remainder of Tommy's cigarette from his mouth and smoking it. "Let's see you do this. Hold this for me, Jack." She handed him her train. "Hold it up." She instructed.
And then, still holding Tommy's cigarette, she slowly began to rise, higher and higher, until, to the amazement of the entire room, she was standing completely on her toes. She held the pose for a few seconds, before screaming in pain, and falling into Jack's arms.
"I haven't done that in years!" She laughed.
"Impressive." Jack said, and she realized, (and he realized), that he was still holding her, and they broke apart, even though nothing had felt awkward about it until they noticed- the band started playing yet again. Several people in the room were linking hands, and dancing in a circle, like a big game of ring-around-the-rosy.
Rose caught Fabrizio's hand, since he was at the end of the chain, and then grabbed Jack with her other hand, and they danced in the circle. All felt very right with the world, nothing could go wrong so long as she was here, and no troubles came to mind. Last night, she felt she'd never smile again, or laugh for that matter, but tonight, she couldn't stop.
I wish things could always be like this. She thought.
"Come Josephine in my flying machine. . ." Jack began as they walked across the cold deck.
(He was escorting her to the first-class entrance, and she had stayed a lot longer than she had intended to.)
"Going up she goes. . ." Rose joined in. "Up she goes. . ."
They stopped, not knowing the rest of the words, but fumbled for them anyway.
"Um, a. . ."
"Something about a bird on a beam." She sang.
"Through the air she goes. . ." They continued, sounding terribly off-key and ridiculous.
"Where?" Rose asked.
"There she goes! Up, up a little bit higher, oh my! The moon is on fire-"
They caught sight of the first class entrance and stopped short. Rose's heart sank. She turned around and handed Jack his coat, which he'd let her borrow since she didn't have one.
"Well, here we are." She said, trying to sound optimistic.
"Right." Jack said, failing to hide his disappointment that she had to leave.
"I don't want to go back." She admitted, smiling, and then catching sight of all the stars that were shining out over the water.
"They're so beautiful." She breathed.
"Yeah." Jack said softly, equally convicted.
"So vast and endless." She muttered, holding on to a rope and spinning around it, still lost in the stars. "We're so small. . . my crowd. . . they think they're giants. They're not even dust in God's eye."
"You know there's been a mistake." Jack told her quietly. "You're not one of them. You got mailed to the wrong address."
Rose laughed. "I did, didn't I?"
A sudden blaze of white streaked across the sky. "Look!" She cried. "A shooting star!"
"Wow, that was a long one." Jack said, just as amazed as she was. "You know, my pop used to tell me that every time you saw one it was a soul going to heaven."
"I like that." Rose told him, and then she asked, "Are we supposed to wish on it?"
Jack stopped looking up, and met her eyes. "Why? What would you wish for?"
Rose looked at him for a long time. She knew exactly what she'd wish for, and her heart beat a little faster at her realization.
"Something I can't have." She sighed.
And Jack knew what she wished for. . . who she wished for. She didn't have to say a word. Her eyes betrayed her thoughts, and though she said nothing in that simple phrase, she had said everything. There was a long, pensive silence.
"Goodnight, Jack." She muttered finally, touching his shoulder and leaving him standing out under the stars.
"Where have you been?!" Mother exclaimed, as Rose walked into the cabin.
"I've been walking around on deck." She answered.
"If you have been, then why do you smell like beer?" Mother asked disgustedly.
"Someone accidently spilled some on me." Rose said.
"Someone accidently. . . " She muttered. "Rose, get back here, I'm not through talking to you yet!"
But she was already in her room.
Fabrizio opened the door to the third class cabin, laughing to himself, and gathering dirty looks from Kristoff and Hans, who were both trying to go to sleep in the bunks on the other side of the room. Jack was lounging on the bottom bunk, thinking about that day. . . thinking about Rose. . .
"That was fun." Fabrizio told him, climbing to the top bunk, and turning his lamp off so that the room was dark.
"You and Helga seemed to have a good time." Jack said absently.
"I'm going to marry that girl." Fabrizio said rapturously.
Jack chuckled. "You'll need to learn Norwegian first."
"I can learn it." Fabrizio told him unconcernedly. "I'm the smartest person I know."
"You must not know many people."
Fabrizio reached down from the top bunk and whacked him on the head with his pillow.
Jack grabbed it from him, and said, "Now I have two."
Fabrizio mumbled something in Italian so quietly that Jack only caught a few words such as stupido and idiota.
Jack smiled at the insults, but his mind quickly turned again to Rose and the conversations that they'd shared. . .
From the moment that he'd first seen her, he had known that they were connected by fate. He hadn't known how, or in what way, but he had known. . . somehow, he'd known. But he had not expected to fall so in love with her. He hadn't even known that it was possible to fall so in love. It had happened so fast. . . but it had happened such a long time ago. When he got on Titanic he had no idea that anyone named Rose Dewitt Bukater existed, and now he did not know how he had ever existed without her. She completed him, and he had never even realized that he needed to be completed. . . It seemed so crazy, so stupid, to think even for a moment, that the love he felt was authentic. . . authentic. . . it should've been the opposite. He had know her for a day. Anything he felt for her should've been shallow. . . But it was not just love for want of love, or love for sake of being in love. . . It was real love, deep love. It had been fast, but life was fast. . . he didn't understand it. He didn't have to understand it. . . All he knew was that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. . . And more than that, he wanted her to be happy. . . But she wasn't happy. She was miserable. She was engaged to someone who would never understand her. . . someone who she didn't love. . . What would happen to her when this ship docked? She had been ready to commit suicide. . . and that was just being engaged. . . what would happen after she was married?
What would she do when she couldn't take it anymore?