Three or four young men, who turned grinning from the window, he thrust aside, and plucking the offending strip from the drawing-pins which secured it to the sill, he tore it across and across.
"You cads! You brutes!" he shouted, trampling on the fragments.

"Can't you fight like Englishmen ?" The young men, realizing the identity of the wrathful apparition, stared open-mouthed, turned red, and said nothing.

Paul strode out, looking very fierce, and drove off in his car amid the cheers of the crowd, to which he paid no notice.
"It makes me sick!" he cried passionately to Wilson, who was with him.
"I hope to God he wins in spite, of it!" "What about the party ?" asked Wilson.
Paul damned the party.

He was in the overwrought mood in which a man damns everything.

Quagmire and bramble and the derision of Olympus-that was the end of his vanity of an existence.