ABSTRACT
Yesterday was devoid of interest and unworthy of comment. Whereas, on the Indian Ocean, one expects to sit on deck, gently moving across an illimitable lake of glass, surrounded by love-sick couples, cooling beverages, and insensible humanity, a detestable wind has upset all such utopianisms, the whisperings of love having been entirely drowned in the groans of mal de mer. And today is, climatically, a thing of ridicule and absurdity. e wind is, if anything, stronger — and the resisting power of anatomy appreciably weaker.
