One face, a young man's, was very near to him, not twenty inches away.

At the time it was but a passing incident of no emotional value, but afterwards it came back to him in his dreams.

For this young man, wedged upright in the crowd for a time, had been shot and was already dead.
A fourth white star must have been lit by the man on the cable.

Its light came glaring in through vast windows and arches and showed Graham that he was now one of a dense mass of flying black figures pressed back across the lower area of the great theatre.

This time the picture was livid and fragmentary, slashed and barred with black shadows.