She considered the rusty inkstand, the pen, the ash-tray, and the old French newspaper.

These small and worthless objects seemed to her to represent human lives.
"We're asleep and dreaming," she repeated.

But the possibility which now suggested itself that one of the shapes might be the shape of Terence roused her from her melancholy lethargy.

She became as restless as she had been before she sat down.

She was no longer able to see the world as a town laid out beneath her.