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"P'raps I don't," said the swart man; and lapsed into a fuming silence.
When he spoke again his voice was less friendly, and he prodded Denton
by way of address. "Look see!" he said: "are you going to let me show
you 'ow to scrap?"
"It's tremendously kind of you," said Denton; "but--"
There was a pause. The swart man rose and bent over Denton.
"Too much ge'man," he said--"eh? I got a red face.... By gosh! you
are--you are a brasted fool!"
He turned away, and instantly Denton realised the truth of this remark.
The swart man descended with dignity to a cross way, and Denton, after a
momentary impulse to pursuit, remained on the platform. For a time the
things that had happened filled his mind. In one day his graceful system
of resignation had been shattered beyond hope. Brute force, the final,
the fundamental, had thrust its face through all his explanations and
glosses and consolations and grinned enigmatically. Though he was
hungry and tired, he did not go on directly to the Labour Hotel, where
he would meet Elizabeth. He found he was beginning to think, he wanted
very greatly to think; and so, wrapped in a monstrous cloud of
meditation, he went the circuit of the city on his moving platform
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