While he was searching for his hat Miss O'Dwyer became suddenly quite calm, and began to explain to him how immensely the cause of Ireland's independence had benefited by the demonstration in the Rotunda.

Hyacinth listened anxiously, waiting for the next explosion, and experienced very great relief when the door opened and Augusta Goold walked in.
Unlike Mary O'Dwyer, she was entirely mistress of herself.

Her cheeks were not a shade paler than usual, nor her hand at all less cool and firm.

She stretched herself, after her usual fashion, in the largest available chair and lit a cigarette.
'You look excited, my dear Mary,' she said--'a little overexcited, perhaps.

Have you had tea?
No?
Perhaps you will be so kind as to ring the bell, Mr.Conneally.' Mary O'Dwyer repeated the information she had given Hyacinth about her sleepless night, and complimented Augusta Goold on her nerve.
'As for poor little me,' she went on, 'I'm like a--like a--you remember the kind of thing, don't you ?--like a--I'm not sure if I know the name of the thing myself.' She relapsed into a weak giggle, and Hyacinth stooped for the bottle of smelling-salts, which had rolled under the sofa.