He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy. Cloud back of your hat!" He opened his eyes again. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. She gulped for air merely, for it had been difficult to breathe with his hand almost cutting off the supply to her lungs. There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions. Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers.
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