As the engine shrieked and plunged into its collar again the door was jerked open and a man projected himself into the carriage and, opening the window so that the compartment was flooded with cold air, leaned out and resumed his conversation with a friend till the train bore him out of shouting range. He then pulled up the window, trod on my foot, sat on my lap and eventually came to rest on the seat opposite me.
It was a small man, red of head and bright of eye. He wore his cap at the back of his head, so as to exhibit to an admiring world a carefully-cultured curl of the "quiff" variety, which was plastered across his forehead with a great expenditure of grease. His tie was a ready-made bow of shot-colours, red, green, blue and purple, and from his glittering watch-chain hung many fanciful medals, like soles upon a line.
"Brother-in-law to me," he remarked, jerking his thumb towards the back-rushing lights of Exeter.
"Who?" I inquired.
"That young feller I was talking to just now. Didn't you see me talking to a young feller?"
"Oh, yes, I believe I did hear you talking to somebody."
"Well, him. Married a sister to me, so he's my brother-in-law, ain't he?"
"Certainly."
"Well, you're wrong then. He's only a half-brother-in-law, because she is only a half-sister to me, her ma marrying my old man. Understand?"
I said I did and pulled up my rug as a signal that I was going to sleep and the conversation was at an end.