Then she went to her window, threw it up, and leaned on the sill, staring hard over the dark and empty park.
Outside, the General walked some distance before he found a taxi.

He walked fast for a man of his age, and ruminated as he went.

It was his way, and the way of his kind.

Most of the modern sciences left him unmoved, and although he would vehemently have denied it, he was the most illogical of men.

He held fast by a few good, sound, old-fashioned principles, and the process of thought, to him, meant turning over a new thing until he had got it into line with these principles.