I remembered that she had said she stood for the future, that she was a symbol of my own decay--the whole silly farrago, in fact.

I reasoned with myself--that I was tired, out of trim, and so on, that I was in a fit state to be at the mercy of any nightmare.

I plunged into Southampton Row.

There was safety in the contact with the crowd, in jostling, in being jostled..