John. Give them their licks. Every time they hiccough let them have
an extra slap in memory of me. And be sure to remember this, my man,
that the one who marries you will find you out.

JOHN. Find me out?

MAGGIE. However careful a man is, his wife always finds out his
failings.

JOHN. I don't know, Maggie, to what failings you refer.

[The Cowcaddens Club has burst its walls, and is pouring this way to
raise the new Member on its crest. The first wave hurls itself
against the barber's shop with cries of 'Shand, Shand, Shand.' For a
moment, JOHN stems the torrent by planting his back against the
door.]

You are acting under an impulse, Maggie, and I can't take advantage
of it. Think the matter over, and we'll speak about it in the
morning.

MAGGIE. No, I can't go through it again. It ends to-night and now.
Good luck, John.

[She is immediately submerged in the sea that surges through the
door, bringing much wreckage with it. In a moment the place is so
full that another cupful could not find standing room. Some slippery
ones are squeezed upwards and remain aloft as warnings. JOHN has
jumped on to the stair, and harangues the flood vainly like another
Canute. It is something about freedom and noble minds, and, though