He had awakened with all his old sense of power.

He could not believe that things were as bad with him as they had seemed last night, that there was no way to set them entirely right.

Even if he went to London at midsummer, what would that mean except that he was a fool?
And he had been a fool before.

That was not the reality of his life.

Yet he knew that he would go to London.
Half an hour later the train stopped at Moorlock.