'Coming in late from this singular talk with old Bob Murphy in his smoky, book-lined room, where the two men had each unloosened his soul to the other, with the sound of the traffic humming in his ears, and the foggy London sky slung tragically across his mind.

.

.

he found women's hats dotted about among his papers.

Women's wraps and absurd little feminine shoes and umbrellas were in the hall.