He could see the real falseness of the sawmill he had just left, he could also look into the exposed rear of the railway station, and could observe beyond it the exposed skeleton of that New York street.

He was surrounded by mockeries.
He clambered down the ladder and sauntered back to the street of offices.

He was by this time confident that no one was going to ask him what right he had in there.

Now, too, he became conscious of hunger and at the same moment caught the sign "Cafeteria" over a neat building hitherto unnoticed.

People were entering this, many of them in costume.
He went idly toward the door, glanced up, looked at his watch, and became, to any one curious about him, a man who had that moment decided he might as well have a little food.