It had knocked down, I suppose, my little customary altar, my twinkling tapers and my flowers, and had reared itself into the likeness of a temple vast and bare.

When Neil Paraday should come out of the house he would come out a contemporary.

That was what had happened: the poor man was to be squeezed into his horrible age.

I felt as if he had been overtaken on the crest of the hill and brought back to the city.

A little more and he would have dipped down the short cut to posterity and escaped..