after they had cleared away the remains of supper from the long central
table chinked money at the desk and discussed the racing stables of the
world with a loudly dressed, red-faced man who, judging from the popping
of corks, absorbed whiskies and sodas at the rate of three a minute. I
understood then how thoughts of murder arose in the human brain. I
devised exquisite means of removing him from a nauseated world. Then
there was a lamp which swung backwards and forwards and searched my
eyeballs relentlessly, no matter how I covered them.

What was I doing in this awful galley? Why had I left my wife and child
and tranquil home? The wind freshened as soon as we got out to sea.
There were horrible noises and rattling of tins and swift scurrying of
stewards. The ship rolled, which I particularly hate a ship to do. And I
was fully dressed and it seemed as if all the tender parts of my body
were tied up with twine. What was I doing in this galley?

When I awoke it was broad daylight, and Jaffery was grinning over me and
all was deathly still.

"Good God!" I cried, sitting up. "Why has the ship stopped? Is there a
fog?"

"Fog?" he boomed. "What are you talking of? We're alongside of Havre."

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Half-past six."

"A Christian gentleman's hour of rising is nine o'clock," said I, lying
down again.

He shook me rudely. "Get up," said he.

The sleepless, unshaven, unkempt, twine-bound, self-hating wreck of
Hilary Freeth rose to his feet with a groan.

"What a ghastly night!"

"Splendid," said Jaffery, ruddy and fresh. "I must have tramped over
twenty miles."

There was an onrush of blue-bloused porters, with metal plate numbers
on their arms. One took our baggage. We followed him up the companion
onto the deck, and joined the crowd that awaited the releasing gangway.
I stood resentful in the sardine pack of humans. The sky was overcast.
It was very cold. The universe had an uncared-for, unswept appearance,
like a house surprised at dawn, before the housemaids are up. The forced
appearance of a well-to-do philosopher at such an hour was nothing less
than an outrage. I glared at the immature day. The day glared at me, and
turned down its temperature about twenty degrees. From fool
thoughtlessness I had not put on my overcoat, which was now far away in
charge of the blue-bloused porter. I shivered. Jaffery was behind me. I
glanced over my shoulder.

"This is our so-called civilisation," I s