he said.

Adele laughed lightly.

"Subjects marry, of course," she said, smiling, "but they've only one
queen."

Which, I think, was uncommon handsome.

Any way, I kissed her slight fingers....

As we reached our companions--

"I could stay here for ever," said Berry. "Easily. But I'm not going
to. The wind annoys me, and the sea's not what it was before the War."

"How can you?" said Daphne. She stretched out a pointing arm. "Just
look at that one--that great big fellow. It must be the ninth wave."

"Nothing to the York Ham--I mean the Welsh Harp--on a dirty night,"
replied her husband. "Why, I remember once ..."

In the confusion of a precipitate retreat before the menace of the
roller, the reminiscence was lost.

It was certainly a magnificent spectacle.

There was a heavy sea running, and the everlasting battle between the
river and the Atlantic was being fought with long swift spasms of
unearthly fury. Continually recurring, shock, mellay and rally
overlapped, attack and repulse were inextricably mingled, the very
lulls between the paroxysms were big with wrath. There was a point,
too, where the river's bank became coastline, a blunt corner of land,
which seemed to exasperate the sea out of all reason. A stiff breeze
abetting them, the gigantic waves crashed upon it with a concussion
that shook the air. All the royal rage of Ocean seemed to be
concentrated on this little prominence. The latter's indifference
appeared to aggravate its assailant. Majesty was in a tantrum.

With the exception of Berry, we could have watched the display till, as
they say, the cows come home. My brother-in-law, however, felt
differently. The wind was offending him.

After a violent denunciation of this element--

"Besides," he added, "we ought to be getting back. It's nearly
half-past three, and if we're to avoid the playground of the Tanks and
return by Bidache, we shall be longer upon the road."

"Well, you go on," said Daphne. "Ask Adele nicely, first, if she'll
take my place, and then if she minds starting now."

"Fair lady," he said,

"_The vay ith long, the vind ith cold,
It maketh me feel infernal old._"

"I'm sorry," said Adele hurriedly, "but I've left my purse at home.
Try my husband."

Berry put on his hat, cocked it, and turned to me.

"D'you want a thick ear?" he demanded. "Or will you go quietly?"

"A little more," I retorted, "and you ride in the dickey."

Ten minutes