I had an insane impulse to fly from it all, to go out into the streets, and wander, wander for ever, away from the world.

I was walking along the promenade, lost in this lunacy, when I stumbled against a fellow-promenader and the shock brought me to my senses.

It was an elderly, obese Oriental wearing a red fez.

He had a long nose and small, crafty eyes, and was deeply pitted with smallpox.
I made profuse apologies and he accepted them with suavity.

It then occurring to me that I was he having in a discourteous and abjectly absurd manner, I made my way back to the box.