"Hours it takes 'em sometimes, sometimes days." It was clear that he was restrained from adding "weeks" only by a natural modesty.
At the time, this emphasizing of the wharf's seclusion had seemed extravagant, but now the professor wasn't so sure.

For the wharf had again mysteriously lost itself.

And Mr.Johnston had lost himself, and the city and the streets of it, and the sea and its ships were all lost--there was nothing left anywhere save a keg (of nails) and Professor Benis Hamilton Spence sitting upon it.

Around him was nothing but a living, pulsing whiteness, which pushed momentarily nearer.
It was interesting.

But it was really very cold.