For an hour or so he watched people fighting for places in the omnibuses at the end of Piccadilly.

He was seen looming over Kennington Oval for some moments in the afternoon, but when he saw these dense thousands were engaged with the mystery of cricket and quite regardless of him he went his way with a groan.
He came back to Piccadilly Circus between eleven and twelve at night and found a new sort of multitude.

Clearly they were very intent: full of things they, for inconceivable reasons, might do, and of others they might not do.

They stared at him and jeered at him and went their way.
The cabmen, vulture-eyed, followed one another continually along the edge of the swarming pavement.

People emerged from the restaurants or entered them, grave, intent, dignified, or gently and agreeably excited or keen and vigilant--beyond the cheating of the sharpest waiter born.
The great giant, standing at his corner, peered at them all.