He made two mistakes, only two, but they were very bad ones; the Millennium hadn't arrived, and it was not a lamb that he was lying down with." "You do not like the English, I gather," said Yeovil, as the Hungarian went off into a short burst of satirical laughter.
"I have always liked them," he answered, "but now I am angry with them for being soft.

Here is my station," he added, as the train slowed down, and he commenced to gather his belongings together.

"I am angry with them," he continued, as a final word on the subject, "because I hate the Germans." He raised his hat punctiliously in a parting salute and stepped out on to the platform.

His place was taken by a large, loose-limbed man, with florid face and big staring eyes, and an immense array of fishing-basket, rod, fly-cases, and so forth.

He was of the type that one could instinctively locate as a loud-voiced, self-constituted authority on whatever topic might happen to be discussed in the bars of small hotels.
"Are you English ?" he asked, after a preliminary stare at Yeovil.
This time Yeovil did not trouble to disguise his nationality; he nodded curtly to his questioner.
"Glad of that," said the fisherman; "I don't like travelling with Germans." "Unfortunately," said Yeovil, "we have to travel with them, as partners in the same State concern, and not by any means the predominant partner either." "Oh, that will soon right itself," said the other with loud assertiveness, "that will right itself damn soon." "Nothing in politics rights itself," said Yeovil; "things have to be righted, which is a different matter." "What d'y'mean ?" said the fisherman, who did not like to have his assertions taken up and shaken into shape.
"We have given a clever and domineering people a chance to plant themselves down as masters in our land; I don't imagine that they are going to give us an easy chance to push them out.