"What is it all for ?" he murmured in a mournful vast undertone, "What is it all for?
They are all so earnest.

What is it I do not understand ?" And none of them seemed to see, as he could do, the drink-sodden wretchedness of the painted women at the corner, the ragged misery that sneaked along the gutters, the infinite futility of all this employment.
The infinite futility! None of them seemed to feel the shadow of that giant's need, that shadow of the future, that lay athwart their paths...
Across the road high up mysterious letters flamed and went, that might, could he have read them, have measured for him the dimensions of human interest, have told him of the fundamental needs and features of life as the little folks conceived it.

First would come a flaming T; Then U would follow, TU; Then P, TUP; Until at last there stood complete, across the sky, this cheerful message to all who felt the burthen of life's earnestness: TUPPER'S TONIC WINE FOR VIGOUR.
Snap! and it had vanished into night, to be followed in the same slow development by a second universal solicitude: BEAUTY SOAP.
Not, you remark, mere cleansing chemicals, but something, as they say, "ideal;" and then, completing the tripod of the little life: TANKER'S YELLOW PILLS.
After that there was nothing for it but Tupper again, in naming crimson letters, snap, snap, across the void.
T U P P....
Early in the small hours it would seem that young Caddles came to the shadowy quiet of Regent's Park, stepped over the railings and lay down on a grassy slope near where the people skate in winter time, and there he slept an hour or so.

And about six o'clock in the morning, he was talking to a draggled woman he had found sleeping in a ditch near Hampstead Heath, asking her very earnestly what she thought she was for....
IV.
The wandering of Caddles about London came to a head on the second day in the morning.

For then his hunger overcame him.