And now for you, Mr.
Wilfrud." The ladies escaped.

Their misery could not be conveyed to the mind.

The woman was like a demon come among them.

They felt chiefly degraded, not by her vulgarity, but by their inability to cope with it, and by the consequent sickening sense of animal inefficiency--the block that was put to all imaginative delight in the golden hazy future they figured for themselves, and which was their wine of life.

An intellectual adversary they could have combated; this huge brogue-burring engine quite overwhelmed them.