He forgot that Mrs.Challice, for instance, had perfectly succeeded in hiding her grief for the irreparable loss, and that her questions about Priam Farll had been almost perfunctory.

He forgot that he had witnessed absolutely no sign of overwhelming sorrow, or of any degree of sorrow, in the thoroughfares of the teeming capital, and that the hotels did not resound to sobbing.
He knew only that all Europe was in mourning! "I suppose I was rather wonderful--_am_, I mean"-- he said to himself, dazed and happy.

Yes, happy.

"The fact is, I've got so used to my own work that perhaps I don't think enough of it." He said this as modestly as he could.
There was no question now of casually glancing at the obituaries.

He could not miss a single line, a single word.