They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. His example was followed by Darrell. He threw up his hand, reeled for a moment on his feet, and collapsed upon the floor. He began to talk again in quick undertones that she could not clearly hear. " Spurlock obeyed mechanically. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. "An American. You tonic my liver and you tonic my soul.
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