He spoke with a smile, but with an air of complete decision and quiet command, and with a murmur of thanks she yielded the bag almost automatically. As he moved off with it, it struck her that here was a clergyman apparently accustomed to very prompt obedience from his flock. They had been standing just aft of the deck-house, and with the bag in his hand he passed by this to where a pile of lighter luggage had been arranged on the deck. As he went he looked at the bag curiously, and then before putting it down he glanced over his shoulder. The lady was not in sight, and very swiftly but keenly he studied it more closely. It was a suit-case made of an unusual brown, light material. Turning one end up quickly he read on a little plate this assurance by the makers, "Garantirt echt Vulcanfibre." And then slowly, and apparently rather thoughtfully, he strolled back. "You'll find it among the other luggage, just beyond the deck-house," he said, and then with an air of sudden thought added, "Perhaps I ought to have put it with your other things, wherever they are." "I have practically nothing else," said she, "except a trunk in the hold." "You are travelling very light," he remarked. "That wasn't a very substantial suit-case." For a moment she seemed to be a little doubtful whether to consider him a somewhat forward stranger. Then she said with a frank smile-- "No; it was made in Germany." As she spoke he glanced at her with a curious sudden intensity, that might have been an ordinary trick of manner. "Oh," he said with a smile. "Before the war, I presume?" "Yes," she answered briefly, and looked round her as though wondering whether she should move. But the clergyman seemed oblivious to the hint. "Do you know Germany well?" he asked. "Yes," she said. "Do you?" He nodded. "Yes, pretty well--as it was before the war, of course. I had some good friends there at one time." "So had I," she said. "All in the past tense now," said he. "I suppose so," she answered; "yet I sometimes find it hard to believe that they are all as poisoned against England and as ignorant and callous as people think. I can't picture some of my friends like that!" She seemed to have got over her first touch of resentment. There was certainly an air of good-breeding and even of distinction about the man, and after all, his extreme assurance sat very naturally on him. It had an unpremeditated matter-of-course quality that made it difficult to remain offended. "It is hard to picture a good many things," he said thoughtfully. "Were you long in Germany?"