So it happened that Hyacinth, without meaning to be offensive, omitted the ceremony of removing his hat.

A neighbour, joyful at the opportunity, snatched the offending garment, and skimmed it far over the heads of the crowd.

A few hard kicks awakened Hyacinth more effectually to a sense of his crime, and it was with a torn coat and many bruises that he escaped in the end to the shelter of his rooms, less inclined to be loyal than when he left them.
After a few weeks it became clear that the British armies in South Africa were not going to reap that rich and unvarying crop of victories which the valour of the soldiers and the ability of the generals deserved.

The indomitable spirit of the great nation rose to the occasion, and the position of those who entertained doubts about the justice of the original quarrel became more than ever unbearable.
Hyacinth took to wandering by himself through parts of the city in which he was unlikely to meet any of his fellow-students.

His soul grew bitter within him.