Manning,” she said, “I warned you not to idealize me. About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. ‘You dare to come to me? What do you wish of me? Why have you come? I do not want you!’ She swept round on Gerald abruptly and he braced for the onslaught. "Here, Caliban, go and fasten his padlock. It was you, of course, whom he wanted. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash.
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