He looked for an empty compartment at the next stoppage, and finding the one next his own unoccupied, he entered it and changed his raiment for that in his portmanteau during the ensuing run of twenty miles.
Thus prepared he awaited the Markton platform, which was reached as the clock struck twelve.

Somerset called a fly and drove at once to the town-hall.
The borough natives had ascended to their upper floors, and were putting out their candles one by one as he passed along the streets; but the lively strains that proceeded from the central edifice revealed distinctly enough what was going on among the temporary visitors from the neighbouring manors.

The doors were opened for him, and entering the vestibule lined with flags, flowers, evergreens, and escutcheons, he stood looking into the furnace of gaiety beyond.
It was some time before he could gather his impressions of the scene, so perplexing were the lights, the motions, the toilets, the full-dress uniforms of officers and the harmonies of sound.

Yet light, sound, and movement were not so much the essence of that giddy scene as an intense aim at obliviousness in the beings composing it.

For two or three hours at least those whirling young people meant not to know that they were mortal.