The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. He could not understand how men could live ignoring this one predominant interest, this wonderful research into personality and the possibilities of pleasing, these complex, fascinating expeditions that began in interest and mounted to the supremest, most passionate intimacy. He was carelessly dressed, and there were marks of unrest upon his features. "I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'.
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