He wandered far over the quay, where the ancient Algiers boat was on the point of departure, crammed with red-tarbooshed troops, zouaves, colonials, swarthy Turcos and Spahis, grinning blacks with faces like polished boots, all exultant in the approaching demobilization. The grey-blue mass glistened with medals. The blacks were eating--with the contented merriment of children at a Sunday School treat. Andrew smiled at many memories. Black troops seemed always to be eating. As he stood watching, porters and pack-laden blue helmeted poilus jostled him, until he found a small oasis of quiet near the bows. Here a hand was clapped on his shoulder and a voice said: "Surely you're Lackaday?" He turned and beheld the clean-cut bronzed face of a man in civilian dress. As often happens, what he had sought to avoid in the streaming streets of the town, he had found in the wilderness--an acquaintance. It was one Arbuthnot, an Australian colonel of artillery who, through the chances of war, had rendered his battalion great service. A keen, sparely built man made of leather and whipcord, with the Australian's shrewd blue eyes. They exchanged the commonplaces of greeting. "Demobilized?" said Andrew. "Thank Heaven." "You seem glad." "Good Lord! I should think so. Aren't you glad it's all over?" "I don't quite know," said Andrew, smiling wistfully. "Well, I am," declared Arbuthnot. "It was a beastly mess that had to be cleared up, and now it's done as far as my little responsibility is concerned. I'm delighted. I want to get back to my wife and family and lead the life of a human being. War's a dog's life. It has nothing to recommend it. It's as stupid and senseless as a typhoon." He laughed. "What are you doing here?" Andrew waved a hand. "Putting in time." "So am I. Till my boat sails. I thought before I left I'd look at a merrier end of France. By Gosh! They're a happy crowd"--he pointed to the packed mass on board the ancient tub of the Compagnie Générale Transatlantique. "You share their feelings," said Andrew. Arbuthnot glanced at him keenly. "I heard they made you a Brigadier. Yes? And you've chucked it?" "I'm a civilian, even as you are," said Andrew. Arbuthnot pushed back his hat and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "For goodness' sake let us get out of this and sit down somewhere and have a talk." He moved away, Andrew following, and hailed a broken down cab, a victoria which had just deposited a passenger by the steamer's side. "To the Cannebière," said he, and they drove off. "If you have anything to do, please tell me. But I know nobody in this furnace of a town. You're a godsend."