There was an awfully civil French fellow at the top of the gangway, who touched his hat to me.

I couldn't make out what he said, but I fancied he must be asking for a tip, so I gave him a copper.

That seemed to make him awfully wild, and he wanted to know my name.

I had to tell him, and he wrote it down; but as he didn't get my address, I hope there won't be a fuss about it.

I didn't see any harm in tipping him, but I suppose it's against French law, and I don't mean to do it any more.
There was an awfully rum lot of chaps in our carriage between Calais and Paris.