"This does me good, Gammon. It's a long time since I've mixed with
people. I always enjoyed a crowd. Holloo--o--o!"
His excited shout made him cough terribly; none the less he pushed
on.
"You'll come to harm," said the other. "Don't be a fool; get out of
this."
A struggle began between them; but by this time they were so thickly
encompassed that Gammon had small chance of forcing his companion
away. Lord Polperro did not resent the tugs at his arm; he took it
for genial horseplay, and only shouted louder.
"On we go! This makes one feel alive, eh? Splendid idea to come and
see this. Hollo--o--o!"
Blackguards in front of him were bellowing a filthy song; his
lordship tried to join in the melody. A girl who was jammed against
him shot liquid into his ear out of a squirt, and another of her
kind knocked his hat off; he struggled to recover it, but someone
was beforehand with him and sent the silky headgear flying skyward,
after which it was tossed from hand to hand and then trampled under
foot.
"Now you'll catch your bloomin' death of cold," said Gammon.
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