‘It is beyond that . . . beyond being good at all. . . .’
And I turned and went out of the station, and down the long sloping
road, and under the bridge again. And there was the noise of
the traffic, of trams, and buses, and cars, and people thick
all round me, and shops, and the smell of fish . . . and there
was mud in the street, and the pavement too was muddy. . . .
The shops gleamed darkly through the chinks of the shutters,
and the people jostled and bustled round me, about the shops.