der.

"On we go! This makes one feel alive, eh? Splendid idea to come and see
this. Hollo--o--o!"

Blackguards in front of him were bellowing a filthy song; his lordship
tried to join in the melody. A girl who was jammed against him shot
liquid into his ear out of a squirt, and another of her kind knocked
his hat off; he struggled to recover it, but someone was beforehand
with him and sent the silky headgear flying skyward, after which it was
tossed from hand to hand and then trampled under foot.

"Now you'll catch your bloomin' death of cold," said Gammon. "Stick on
to me and get out of this."

"I'm all right! Leave me alone, can't you! How often have I a damned
chance of enjoying myself?"

It was the first syllable of bad language that Gammon had heard from
Polperro's lips. Struck with the fact, and all the more conscious of
his duty to this high-born madman, he hit on a device for rescuing him
from the crowd.

"Look!" he cried suddenly, "there's Greenacre!"

"Where?" replied the other, all eagerness.

"Just in front; don't you see him? This way; come along, or we shall
lose him."

Flecks of dim white had for some minutes been visible above their
heads; it was beginning to snow. Gammon shouldered his way steadily,
careful not to come into quarrelsome conflict. Polperro hung on behind,
shouting Greenacre's name. This clamour and the loss of his hat drew
attention upon him; he was a mark for squirts and missiles, to say
nothing of verbal insult. St. Paul's struck the first note of twelve,
and from all the bestial mob arose a howl and roar. Polperro happened
to press against a drunken woman; she caught him by his disordered hair
and tugged at it, yelling into his face. To release himself he bent
forward, pushing the woman away; the result was a violent blow from her
fist, after which she raised a shriek as if of pain and terror.
Instantly a man sprang forward to her defence, and he, too, planted his
fist between the eyes of the hapless peer. Gammon saw at once that they
were involved in a serious row, the very thing he had been trying to
avoid. He would not desert his friend, and was too plucky to see him
ill-used with out reprisals. The rough's blows were answered with no
less vigour by the man of commerce.

"Hook it!" shouted Gammon to the tottering Polperro. "Get out of it!"

The clock was still striking; the crowd kept up its brutal blare, aided
by shrill instruments of noise. Only a few people heard Po