Berry and I stood as close to the actual points of disembarkation as convenience and discretion allowed, while Jill hovered excitedly in the background. As the passengers began to descend-- "Now for it," said my brother-in-law, settling his hat upon his head. "I feel extremely nervous and more ill at ease than I can ever remember. My mind is a seething blank, and I think my left sock-suspender is coming down. However ... Of course, it is beginning to be forcibly what they call 'borne in upon' me that we ought to have brought some barbed wire and a turnstile. As it is, we shall miss about two-thirds of them. Here's your chance," he added, nodding at a stout lady with a green suit-case and a defiant glare. "I'll take the jug and bottle department." I had just time to see that the object of his irreverence was an angular female with a brown paper parcel and a tumbler, when my quarry gained _terra firma_ and started in the direction of the train. I raised my hat. "_Pardon, madame. Mais vous etes Camille_----" "Reeang," was the discomfiting reply. "Par de baggarge." I realized that an offer which I had not made had been rejected, and that the speaker was not of French descent. The sting of the rebuff was greatly tempered by the reception with which Berry's advances were met. I was too late to hear what he had said, but the resentment which his attempt had provoked was disconcertingly obvious. After fixing my brother-in-law with a freezing stare, his addressee turned as from an offensive odour and invested the one word she thought fit to employ with an essence of loathing which was terrible to hear. "Disgusting!" Berry shook his head. "The right word," he said, "was 'monstrous.'" He turned to accost a quiet-looking girl wearing an oil-silk gaberdine and very clearly born upon the opposite side of the Channel. With a sigh, I addressed myself to a widow with a small boy clad in a _pelerine_. To my embarrassment she proved to be deaf, but when I had stumblingly repeated my absurd interrogation, she denied the impeachment with a charming smile. During our exchange of courtesies the child stood staring at me with a finger deep in his mouth. At their conclusion he withdrew this and pointed it directly at my chin. "_Pourquoi s'est-il coupe, maman?_" he demanded in a piercing treble. The question was appropriate, but unanswerable. His mother lugged him incontinently away. Berry was confronting one of the largest ladies I have ever seen. As he began to speak, she interrupted him. "_Vous etes Meestair Baxtair, n'est-ce pas? Ah, c'est bien ca. J'avais si peur de ne pas vous trouver. Mais maintenant je suis tranquille. Mon mari me suit. Ah, le voila!_" She turned about, the better to beckon to a huge man with two bags and a hold-all. "_Pierre! Pierre_!" Beneath the avalanche of good-will Berry stood paralysed. Recognizing that something must be done, I sought to interfere. "Leave me alone," said Berry weakly. "I've--I've got off."