Behind the illustrious personages just described marched a troop of stalwart fellows, with white badges in their hats, quarterstaves, oaken cudgels, and links in their hands. A creeping numbness invaded her. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. To be no longer with Martha was strange. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. Stir a foot, and I strike. ’ ‘Had a certificate for it,’ argued Roding. ’ ‘To be sure I do,’ said Gerald swiftly.
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