Berry and I stood as close to the actual points of disembarkation as convenience and discretion allowed, while Jill hovered excitedly in the background.
As the passengers began to descend—
"Now for it," said my brother-in-law, settling his hat upon his head. "I feel extremely nervous and more ill at ease than I can ever remember. My mind is a seething blank, and I think my left sock-suspender is coming down. However ... Of course, it is beginning to be forcibly what they call 'borne in upon' me that we ought to have brought some barbed wire and a turnstile. As it is, we shall miss about two-thirds of them. Here's your chance," he added, nodding at a stout lady with a green suit-case and a defiant glare. "I'll take the jug and bottle department."
I had just time to see that the object of his irreverence was an angular female with a brown paper parcel and a tumbler, when my quarry gained terra firma and started in the direction of the train.
I raised my hat.
"Pardon, madame. Mais vous êtes Camille——"
"Reeang," was the discomfiting reply. "Par de baggarge."
I realized that an offer which I had not made had been rejected, and that the speaker was not of French descent.
The sting of the rebuff was greatly tempered by the reception with which Berry's advances were met.
I was too late to hear what he had said, but the resentment which his attempt had provoked was disconcertingly obvious.