He felt an extreme reluctance to move a step from where he was at the railings of the unknown Mrs. Herbert. “I’ve talked a lot about reality,” he said to himself. “But now I know a little better what mine is⁠ ⁠…”

“ This is reality,” he thought. “This is the kind of thing that men returning home at a quarter past nine, in Colorado, in Singapore, in Moscow, in Cape-Town, in New Zealand, see in the darkness!⁠ ⁠… This is reality,” he thought.