"Do you think I'm too timid?" I demanded, eager instantly to prove the contrary. But she saw the light in my eyes, I suppose, for she drew away, almost imperceptibly. "Only in some things," she retorted, and silenced me. The evening passed and the last day came. We sighted land soon after breakfast--the high white cliffs of Cape La Hague--vague at first, but slowly lifting as we plowed on into the bay, with the crowded roofs of Havre far ahead. I was standing at the rail beside Miss Kemball, filled with the thought of our imminent good-by, when she turned to me suddenly. "Don't forget Martigny," she cautioned. "Wouldn't you better see him again?" "I thought I'd wait till we landed," I said; "then I can help him off the boat and see him well away from the station. He's too ill to be very lively on his feet. We shouldn't have any trouble dodging him." "Yes; and be careful. He mustn't suspect Etretat. But look at that clump of houses yonder--aren't they picturesque?" They _were_ picturesque, with their high red roofs and yellow gables and striped awnings; yet I didn't care to look at them. I was glad to perceive what a complicated business it was, getting our boat to the quay, for I was jealous of every minute; but it was finally accomplished in the explosive French manner, and after a further short delay the gang-plank was run out. "And now," said my companion, holding out her hand, "we must say good-by." "Indeed, not!" I protested. "See, there go your mother and Royce. They're evidently expecting us to follow. We'll have to help you with your baggage." "Our baggage goes through to Paris--we make our declarations there." "At least, I must take you to the train." "You are risking everything!" she cried. "We can say good-by here as well as on the platform." "I don't think so," I said. "I have already said good-by to all my other friends!" "But I refuse to be treated just like all the others," and I started with her down the gang-plank. She looked at me from the corner of her eyes, her lips trembling between indignation and amusement. "Do you know," she said deliberately, "I am beginning to fear that you are obstinate, and I abhor obstinate people." "I'm not at all obstinate," I objected. "I'm simply contending for my rights." "Your rights?" "My right to be with you as long as I can, for one." "Are there others?" "Many others. Shall I enumerate them?" "No," she said, "we haven't time. Here is mother." They were to take the company's special train to Paris, which was waiting on the wharf, two hundred feet away, and we slowly pushed our way toward it. In the clamor and hurry and confusion wholly Latin, there was no chance for intelligent converse. The place was swarming with people, each of them, as it seemed to me, on the verge of hysteria. Someone, somewhere, was shouting "_En voiture!_" in a stentorian voice. Suddenly, we found our way blocked by a uniformed official, who demanded to see our tickets.