Then suddenly he got up again, and strode to one of the westward-looking windows.

The light was almost wholly gone, now.

The man's figure, big-shouldered, compact, well-knit, appeared only as a dim silhouette against the faded blur in the west; a blur smoky and streaked with dull smudges as of old, dried blood.
Far below, stretching away, away, shimmered the city's million inconsequential lights.

Above, stars were peeping out--were spying down at all this feverish mystery of human life.

Some of the low-hung stars seemed to blend with the far lights along the Palisades.