At this point I precipitately found myself aware of three things. The moment they were through the doorway Cranly seized him rudely by the neck and shook him, saying: --You flaming floundering fool! I'll take my dying bible there isn't a bigger bloody ape, do you know, than you in the whole flaming bloody world! Temple wriggled in his grip, laughing still with sly content, while Cranly repeated flatly at every rude shake: --A flaming flaring bloody idiot! They crossed the weedy garden together. I used to speculate-- but even this with a dim disconnectedness--as to how the rough future (for all futures are rough!) would handle them and might bruise them. There were lanterns in the hall of his father's house and ropes of green branches.