There were changes, however. Mrs. Brutt's middle-aged lawyer had disappeared; and an elderly lady took his place. Also on Doris's other side two talkative Spaniards were gone; and she waited with curiosity to see who would fill the vacant seats. They remained empty till the end of the first course. Then a man drew back the chair by her side, and slipped into it—bowing to those opposite. Another "foreigner," Doris decided. What a pity! She was longing to exchange ideas with somebody. Perhaps he might prove to be a linguist. One glance revealed to her a spare and muscular figure, broad-shouldered and of medium height. She saw that the sunburnt well-shaped hand, lying on the table, made no needless movements. "English—surely!" An odd feeling of confidence in the owner of that strong still hand took possession of her. "Would you please pass the mustard?" she had to say; and the ice was broken. "Pretty place, Bex," he remarked. So she had conjectured rightly. "Rather shut in," she observed, brightening. "Well, yes. One would not care to stay too long. I'm going higher." "So are we in two or three days." She gave another glance, and met a pair of good grey eyes bent upon herself. A good face too; not exactly handsome, but she liked it. "I thought at first that you were a foreigner," she remarked. "Properly speaking, we are both foreigners here." When he smiled, no question existed as to his good looks. The whole face changed. It reminded Doris of somebody—or something. "May I ask why you took me for a 'foreigner'?" "Only because you bowed. We English don't generally, you know,—till we have begun an acquaintance." "A bow isn't a bad preliminary. And sometimes it's not a bad plan to adopt foreign ways in a foreign land." Again she met those dark-grey eyes, and their intense honesty, their abundant kindliness, impressed her. Also their self-forgetfulness. They seemed to be too fully occupied with others' interests to have time for their own. "I think I'll begin, the next place we go to." She heard a little murmur of approval, followed by—"It would save misunderstandings, if each nation would respect the rules of good manners in other nations." "But don't you think foreigners quite as often offend against our rules, as we against theirs?" "Yes; and perhaps as unconsciously. No reason why we should not be pioneers in trying not to cause needless annoyance." "There was a Polish lady here, when we first came; and she told me her little boy said he hoped to be an Englishman when he grew up, 'because the English were always so polite.' I thought that rather nice." "It looks as if our characters as travellers were improving. We might perhaps take more trouble than we do to be understood. The average Englishman is a little too apt to stand calmly aloof, and to say: 'Only a foreigner! What the dickens does it matter?'" "I suppose you have been a great deal abroad." "I was at school on the Continent for some years."