I could barely see them branching out, elbowing, winding, and sliding out into the night in pairs.

I was fascinated by the dotted lights, the significant red and green of signal lamps.

These simple things stood for a complexity that it made me dizzy to think of.

Then the blackness below me was split by the fiery eye of a monster engine, his breath enveloped me in blinding clouds, his long body shot by, rattling a hundred claws of steel; and he was gone, with an imperative shriek that shook me where I stood.
So would I be, swift on my rightful business, picking out my proper track from the million that cross it, pausing for no obstacles, sure of my goal.
[Illustration: I LIKED TO STAND AND LOOK DOWN ON THE DIM TANGLE OF RAILROAD TRACKS BELOW] After my watches on the bridge I often stayed up to write or study.

It is late before Dover Street begins to go to bed.