At times he would turn aside and sit down on one of the numerous benches of the upper ways.

But a feverish restlessness, the knowledge of his vital implication in this struggle, would not let him rest in any place for long.

Was the struggle on his behalf alone?
And then in a desolate place came the shock of an earthquake--a roaring and thundering--a mighty wind of cold air pouring through the city, the smash of glass, the slip and thud of falling masonry--a series of gigantic concussions.

A mass of glass and ironwork fell from the remote roofs into the middle gallery, not a hundred yards away from him, and in the distance were shouts and running.

He, too, was startled to an aimless activity, and ran first one way and then as aimlessly back.
A man came running towards him.