sort of impression one disregards. The collapse of the pile of goods

just sufficed to end his subconscious efforts to get something to hit

somebody with, and his whole attention focussed itself upon the

struggle in the window. For a splendid instant Parsons towered up over

the active backs that clustered about the shop window door, an active

whirl of gesture, tearing things down and throwing them, and then he

went under. There was an instant's furious struggle, a crash, a second

crash and the crack of broken plate glass. Then a stillness and heavy

breathing.

Parsons was overpowered....

Polly, stepping over scattered pieces of Bolton sheeting, saw his

transfigured friend with a dark cut, that was not at present bleeding,

on the forehead, one arm held by Somerville and the other by Morrison.

"You--you--you--you annoyed me," said Parsons, sobbing for breath.

III

There are events that detach themselves from the general stream of

occurrences and seem to partake of the nature of revelations. Such was

this Parsons affair. It began by seeming grotesque; it ended

disconcertingly. The fabric of Mr. Polly's daily life was torn, and

beneath it he discovered depths and terrors.

The History of Mr Polly