Once even he said "Gentlemen!" Quietly, expandingly, he began to talk....
There were moments when Redwood ceased even to feel himself an interlocutor, when he became the mere auditor of a monologue.

He became the privileged spectator of an extraordinary phenomenon.

He perceived something almost like a specific difference between himself and this being whose beautiful voice enveloped him, who was talking, talking.
This mind before him was so powerful and so limited.

From its driving energy, its personal weight, its invincible oblivion to certain things, there sprang up in Redwood's mind the most grotesque and strange of images.

Instead of an antagonist who was a fellow-creature, a man one could hold morally responsible, and to whom one could address reasonable appeals, he saw Caterham as something, something like a monstrous rhinoceros, as it were, a civilised rhinoceros begotten of the jungle of democratic affairs, a monster of irresistible onset and invincible resistance.