A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. “We’ve all been mixing our ideas, and we’ve got intellectual hot coppers— every blessed one of us. Apologizing to Sir Rowland for this unpleasant reception, and swearing lustily at his servant for occasioning it by leaving the dogs at liberty, Jonathan ordered the man to light them to the audience-room. Any natural fineness would be numbed by drink. “Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly. Meanwhile, the clergyman, bare-headed and in his surplice, advanced to meet them.
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