There I stopped, utterly bewildered by the tangle of streets, the roar of traffic, the giddy swarm of pedestrians.

With the precious manuscript tightly clasped, I balanced myself on the curbstone, afraid to plunge into the boiling vortex of the crossing.

Every time I made a start, a clanging street car snatched up the way.

I could not even pick out my street; the unobtrusive street signs were lost to my unpractised sight, in the glaring confusion of store signs and advertisements.

If I accosted a pedestrian to ask the way, I had to speak several times before I was heard.