They walked, holding each other's arms, a little unsteadily at first. Rudstock had a black eye and a cut on his ear, the blood from which had stained his collar and matted his beard. Wilderton's coat was torn, his forehead bruised, his cheek swollen, and he had a pain in his back which prevented him from walking very upright. They did not speak, but in an archway did what they could with pins and handkerchiefs, and by turning up Rudstock's coat collar, to regain something of respectability. When they were once more under way Rudstock said coldly:
"I heard you. You should have spoken for yourself. I came, as you know, because I don't believe in opposing force by force. At the next peace meeting we hold I shall make that plainer."
Wilderton murmured:
"Yes, yes; I saw you—I'm sure you will. I apologise; I was carried away."
Rudstock went on in a deep voice:
"As for those young devils, they may die to a man if they like! Take my advice and let them alone."
Wilderton smiled on the side which was not swollen.
"Yes," he said sadly, "it does seem difficult to persuade them to go on living. Ah, well!"
"Ah, well!" he said again, five minutes later, "they're wonderful—poor young beggars! I'm very unhappy, Rudstock!"
"I'm not," said Rudstock, "I've enjoyed it in a way! Good-night!"