en an abrupt
silence.

MORE. You shall have it in a nutshell!

A SHOPBOY. [Flinging a walnut-shell which strikes MORE on the
shoulder] Here y'are!

MORE. Go home, and think! If foreigners invaded us, wouldn't you be
fighting tooth and nail like those tribesmen, out there?

TALL YOUTH. Treacherous dogs! Why don't they come out in the open?

MORE. They fight the best way they can.

[A burst of hooting is led by a soldier in khaki on the
outskirt.]

MORE. My friend there in khaki led that hooting. I've never said a
word against our soldiers. It's the Government I condemn for putting
them to this, and the Press for hounding on the Government, and all
of you for being led by the nose to do what none of you would do,
left to yourselves.

The TALL YOUTH leads a somewhat unspontaneous burst of
execration.

MORE. I say not one of you would go for a weaker man.

VOICES IN THE CROWD.

ROUGH VOICE. Tork sense!

GIRL'S VOICE. He's gittin' at you!

TALL YOUTH'S VOICE. Shiny skunk!

A NAVVY. [Suddenly shouldering forward] Look 'ere, Mister! Don't
you come gaflin' to those who've got mates out there, or it'll be the
worse for you-you go 'ome!

COCKNEY VOICE. And git your wife to put cottonwool in yer ears.

[A spurt of laughter.]

A FRIENDLY VOICE. [From the outskirts] Shame! there! Bravo, More!
Keep it up!

[A scuffle drowns this cry.]

MORE. [With vehemence] Stop that! Stop that! You---!

TALL YOUTH. Traitor!

AN ARTISAN. Who black-legged?

MIDDLE-AGED MAN. Ought to be shot-backin' his country's enemies!

MORE. Those tribesmen are defending their homes.

TWO VOICES. Hear! hear!

[They are hustled into silence.]

TALL YOUTH. Wind-bag!

MORE. [With sudden passion] Defending their homes! Not mobbing
unarmed men!

[STEEL again pulls at his arm.]

ROUGH. Shut it, or we'll do you in!

MORE. [Recovering his coolness] Ah! Do me in by all means! You'd
deal such a blow at cowardly mobs as wouldn't be forgotten in your
time.

STEEL. For God's sake, sir!

MORE. [Shaking off his touch] Well!

There is an ugly rush, checked by the fall of the foremost
figures, thrown too suddenly against the bottom step. The crowd
recoils.

There is a momentary lull, and MORE stares steadily down at
them.

COCKNEY VOICE. Don't 'e speak well! What eloquence!

Two or three nutshell