“Sorry,” he replied in English.  “I don’t speak German.”

The man’s satisfaction was complete.

“But I—­I speak the most wonderful English.  It pleases me always to speak English.  I like to do so.  It is practice for me.  We will talk English together, you and I. These comic papers, they do not amuse.  And books in the train, they make one giddy.  What I like best is a companion and a bottle of Rhine wine.”

“Personally,” Norgate confessed gruffly, “I like to sleep.”

The other seemed a little taken aback but remained, apparently, full of the conviction that his overtures could be nothing but acceptable.

“It is well to sleep,” he agreed, “if one has worked hard.  Now I myself am a hard worker.  My name is Selingman.  I manufacture crockery which I sell in England.  That is why I speak the English language so wonderful.  For the last three nights I have been up reading reports of my English customers, going through their purchases.  Now it is finished.  I am well posted.  I am off to sell crockery in London, in Manchester, in Leeds, in Birmingham.  I have what the people want.  They will receive me with open arms, some of them even welcome me at their houses.  Thus it is that I look forward to my business trip as a holiday.”

“Very pleasant, I’m sure,” Norgate remarked, curling himself up in his corner.  “Personally, I can’t see why we can’t make our own crockery.  I get tired of seeing German goods in England.”

Herr Selingman was apparently a trifle hurt, but his efforts to make himself agreeable were indomitable.

“If you will,” he said, “I can explain why my crockery sells in England where your own fails.  For one thing, then, I am cheaper.  There is a system at my works, the like of which is not known in England.  From the raw material to the finished article I can produce forty per cent. cheaper than your makers, and, mind you, that is not because I save in wages.  It is because of the system in the various departments.  I do not like to save in wages,” he went on.  “I like to see my people healthy and strong and happy.  I like to see them drink beer after work is over, and on feast days and Sundays I like to see them sit in the gardens and listen to the band, and maybe change their beer for a bottle of wine.  Industrially, Mr. Englishman, ours is a happy country.”

“Well, I hope you won’t think I am rude,” Norgate observed, “but from the little I have seen of it I call it a beastly country, and if you don’t mind I am going to sleep.”

Herr Selingman sat for several moments with his mouth still open.  Then he gave a little grunt.  There was not the slightest ill-humour in the ejaculation or in his expression.  He was simply pained.

“I am sorry if I have talked too much,” he said.  “I forgot that you, perhaps, are tired.  You have met with disappointments, maybe.  I am sorry.  I will read now and not disturb you.”