As he closed the front door he felt as if he were
escaping from an atmosphere that threatened to stifle him.
His steps directing themselves more by habit than with any
deliberate choice, he walked towards Camden Road. When he had
reached Camden Town railway-station he was attracted by a coffee-
stall; a draught of the steaming liquid, no matter its quality,
would help his blood to circulate. He laid down his penny, and
first warmed his hands by holding them round the cup. Whilst
standing thus he noticed that the objects at which he looked had
a blurred appearance; his eyesight seemed to have become worse
this morning. Only a result of his insufficient sleep perhaps. He
took up a scrap of newspaper that lay on the stall; he could read
it, but one of his eyes was certainly weaker than the other;
trying to see with that one alone, he found that everything
became misty.
He laughed, as if the threat of new calamity were an amusement in
his present state of mind. And at the same moment his look
encountered that of a man who had drawn near to him, a shabbily-
dressed man of middle age, whose face did not correspond with his
attire.
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