"Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. The crowd began to separate as it fell into the theater. The smile had become a laugh. The floor was strewn with screws, nails, fragments of wood and stone, and across the passage lay the heavy iron fillet. Nothing else so quickly establishes the condition of comradeship as the sharing of a laughable incident. He felt her relaxation and let go of her wrists. A phase of mental activity that men called courage: to summon at will this energy which barred the ingress of the long cold fingers of fear, which cleared the throat of stuffiness and kept the glance level and ever forward.
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