"It's very kind of you, Samuel," said Dahlia, "but I don't think—"
Archie nodded to Simpson.
"You leave this to me," he said confidentially. "We're going."
II.
ON THE WAY
"Toulon," announced Archie, as the train came to a stop and gave out its plaintive, dying whistle. "Naval port of our dear allies, the French. This would interest Thomas."
"If he weren't asleep," I said.
"He'll be here directly," said Simpson from the little table for two on the other side of the gangway. "I'm afraid he had a bad night. Here, garçon—er—donnez-moi du café et—er-" But the waiter had slipped past him again—the fifth time.
"Have some of ours," said Myra kindly, holding out the pot.
"Thanks very much, Myra, but I may as well wait for Thomas, and—garçon, du café pour—I don't think he'll be—deux cafés, garçon, s'il vous—it's going to be a lovely day."