Snatches of song drifted across the water,
and now and again the melancholy long-drawn hoot of a syren pierced the
air.
Gradually Ann drew abreast of the assembled craft, and leisurely pulled her
way in and out amongst them. The decorated boats delighted her, some agleam
with Chinese lanterns--giant glow-worms floating on the water, others with
phantom sails of frail asparagus fern lit by swaying lights like dancing
will-o'-the-wisps--dream-boats gliding slowly over a dreaming lake.
Presently she rested on her oars, watching the scene with the eager, vivid
interest which was characteristic of her. So absorbed was she that she
failed to notice that her own small skiff was getting rather dangerously
hemmed in. To her right lay a biggish sailing vessel, blocking the view on
that side, behind her a small fry of miscellaneous craft, packed together
like a flotilla of Thames boats on a summer's day awaiting the opening of
the lock gates. Half unconsciously she heard the approaching chug-chug of
an engine mingling with the sound of voices singing lustily--the hilarious
chorus of a crew of roysterers who had been celebrating not wisely but too
well.
... It all happened with appalling suddenness.
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