She looked more than ever like Harry Truman

There was a big brass latch on the wall. Howard jiggled it and finally it slipped free and the bed fell out on top of him. It took him by surprise and almost knocked him down but he kept his footing and managed to push the bed back into the wall. Then he read the barometer and opened and closed the drawers. The upper drawers contained several bars of soap in miniature packets. Howard slipped a few in his pocket and opened the porthole and stuck his head out. Other people had their heads stuck out too. He battened the porthole and read the barometer again, then picked up the intercom.

"Testing," he said. "One two three four testing. Night Raider this is Black Hawk. Testing."
A voice crackled from the speaker. "Steward here."
"It's me, Howard. Just testing. Over and out."
Nora came back into the cabin and made her way to the couch. "It's too small in there. I couldn't breathe."
"I could have told you this wouldn't be any palace."
"I feel awful. I bet I look awful too."
Nora's face had gone white. The burst veins in her cheeks and along her upper lip stood out like notations on a map. Her eyes glittered feverishly behind her spectacles. Sick, she looked more than ever like Harry Truman, for whom Howard had not voted. [89-90]

from 'Maiden Voyage'

Wolff, Tobias. In the Garden of the North American Martyrs : stories. ISBN: 0912946822.