CHAPTER XVIII. As he stood upon the bridge, he held down the light, and looked into the profound abyss. Contrasted with the confused movement and presences of a Fabian meeting, or the inexplicable enthusiasm behind the suffrage demand, with the speeches that were partly egotistical displays, partly artful manoeuvres, and partly incoherent cries for unsoundly formulated ends, compared with the comings and goings of audiences and supporters that were like the eddy-driven drift of paper in the street, this long, quiet, methodical chamber shone like a star seen through clouds. Kneebone's cheeks glowed with rage, and he set down the wine untasted, while Blueskin resumed his song.
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