He felt weak, his hands trembled, his forehead was cold and seemed wet and sticky.
He could recall hardly anything of the previous night.

He remembered, however, of going to the Imperial and of seeing Flossie, and he _did_ remember at last of leaving word to be called at half-past six.
He got up without waking the other two fellows and took a plunge in the cold tank, dressed very slowly, and went out.

The stores were all closed, the streets were almost deserted.

He walked to the nearest uptown car-line and took an outside seat, feeling better and steadier for every moment of the sharp morning air.
Van Ness Avenue was very still.

It was about half-past seven.