It's better for me to just happen in, isn't it?
Don't forget to put Merkle wise." He descended the stairs hastily.

Merkle, of the invisible eyes, held his hat and gloves and opened the door for him.
Once on the dark street, his impulse was to flee--get out, get away from the whole business.

A sullen shame was pumping the hot blood up into his neck and cheeks.

He strove to find an inoffensive name for what he was proposing to do, but ugly terms, synonym after synonym, crowded in to characterise the impending procedure, and he walked on angrily, half frightened, looking back from moment to moment at the house he had just left.
On the corner he halted, breathing spasmodically, for he had struck a smarter pace than he had been aware of.
Few people passed him.

Once he caught a glimmer of a policeman's buttons along the park wall, and an unpleasant shiver passed over him.