If the new one persisted, they slipped from their cakes of ice and swam to the seclusion of the cloakrooms, leaving the new one talking to himself.

This snub was commonly enough to cause the collapse of the new one, after which the old walruses would return to their cakes of ice.
Senator Hanway--one should give him his title when now he has earned it--was not inclined to abide by those gag traditions that ruled the Senate beaches.

He was supple, smooth, apologetic, deprecatory, and his nature was one which would sooner run a mile than fight a moment.

For all that he was wise in his generation, fearing no one who could not reach him for his injury.

He did not, for instance, fear the Senate walruses, goggle-eying him from their ice cakes.