CHAPTER XXIV
Everybody was drunk that night in honour of the Saint's bounty, though Miss Wilberforce reached the c****x of her activities at the early hour of 4 p.m.—during the torchlight procession.
An uproar had been generated at the Club; chairs were broken, bottles smashed, and sporting prints kicked about—all on account of a comical but rather scurrilous speech contrasting Europe with Australasia by a new-comer, a member of the New Zealand House of Representatives, who limped home not long afterwards with a damaged shinbone and black eye. The more violent parties had been ejected during that incident, or carried to their lodgings. Only about half the usual number was left—all moderates, so far as drinking was concerned, but all more or less screwed that day as befitted the occasion.
