Why can't they lea' me alone ?" He sat with a darkling face, gnawing at his knuckles and looking down over London.

All the fatigue, worry, perplexity, and impotent wrath of his wanderings was coming to a head in him.

"They mean nothing," he whispered.

"They mean nothing.

And they _won't_ let me alone, and they _will_ get in my way." And again, over and over to himself, "Meanin' nothing.
"Ugh! the little people!" He bit harder at his knuckles and his scowl deepened.