The thousand voices which a few moments before had been so clamorous were now hushed. Ye gods! what a wilderness it is! Every one trying to get the better of every one, every one regardless of every one—it’s one of those days when every one bumps against you—every one pouring coal smoke into the air and making confusion worse confounded, motor omnibuses clattering and smelling, a horse down in the Tottenham Court Road, an old woman at the corner coughing dreadfully—all the painful sights of a great city, and here you come into it to take your chances. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. Disillusion stands in one doorway of our house and Mockery in the other. "Then I'll have it before to-morrow morning," said the keeper of the New Prison, to himself. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate.
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