The chairs had been removed, and the audience stood packed beneath the flaring gas-jets--artificers for the most part, their white faces smeared and stained with the grime of their factories.
The roar of applause as Drake rose by the table swelled up to three cheers in consonance, and a subsequent singing of 'For he's a jolly good fellow' stirred even Fielding to enthusiasm.

He noted that feeling of enthusiasm as strange in himself, and had a thought in consequence that such scenes were hardly of the kind to help Clarice to the rest she needed.

The hall for a moment became a sea of tossing handkerchiefs.

He took a glance at Clarice.

She sat bent forward with parted lips and a bosom that heaved.