The only feminine element in this assembly was a fair, earnest-looking
Russian girl, whose slight knowledge of English did not allow her to
follow the proceedings very accurately. She was an almost pathetic figure
in her naive enthusiasm, and evidently regarded her present companions as
seriously as those she had left behind her in Russia, and seemed to
imagine they played as dangerous a role, and ran the same risk as they did.
There were several others present among whom the loafer type was perhaps
in the ascendant. But there were also many of the more intelligent artisan
class, discontented with their lot; labourers and dockers who had tramped
up after a hard day's work, a young artist who looked rather of the Social
Democratic type, a cabman, a few stray gentlemen, a clever but never-sober
tanner, a labour agitator, a professional stump-orator, and one or two
fishy and nondescript characters of the Hebraic race. O'Flynn, the printer
of the _Bomb_, was a cantankerous Irishman with a taste for
discoursing on abstract questions, concerning which he grew frightfully
muddled and confused. He had a rather mad look in his eye and a
disputatious manner.
When at last inquiry was made whether all companions expected were
present, the red flag began to quiver and writhe most noticeably and
finally to unfurl, and there emerged from its depths the dirtiest and most
slovenly man I had ever seen, and the frouziest and most repulsive of
dogs.
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