"The man thinks money, he dreams money, he lives money.

He lives like a prince but he has no pleasures.
From ten in the morning till two, he sites in his office in Lombard Street, and the pulse of the city beats differently in his absence." "I wonder!" the other murmured.
Other people had wondered, too.

Still the keen blue eyes looked across through the misty atmosphere at the grey building opposite.

Men and women passed before him in a constant, unseen procession.

No one came and spoke to him, no one interfered with his meditations.