One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. "Was I out of my head?" "Yes. For yonder went the loneliest man in all God's unhappy world. He was a comforting, humorous old ruffian; but there were few men in the Orient more deeply read in psychology and physiognomy. One has to train one’s self not to. She heard the bamboo curtain rattle slightly. out of the ten or twelve people one meets in a month not only say but feel and assume a thing, it is very hard not to fall into the belief that the thing is so.
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