"I thought we had a pleasant journey," says the Englishman regretfully. "That little man next to you——"
"Mr. Hoggenheimer——?"
"Was that his name?—I couldn't understand all he said, but he had an amusing face."
"A face can be misleading," you say; "that man bullies his wife."
"How do you know?"
"He told us so. He smokes before breakfast ... while he is dressing, ... and he has no dressing room...."
The Englishman looks calm.
"They do take one into their confidence," he remarks. "My neighbour told me that he never could eat mayonnaise of salmon directly after roast pork, because it gave him peculiar pains. I was afraid you'd hear him describe his symptoms; but I believe you were asleep."
"No, I wasn't," you confess; "I heard it all, and I shut my eyes, because I knew if I opened them he'd address himself to me. I shut them when he began talking to you about your Magen and what you ought to do to give it tone. You seemed interested."
"It's quite an interesting subject," says the Englishman, who makes friends with every German he meets. "He is not in the least like an Englishman," they say to you cordially,—"he is so friendly and amiable."