For awhile, in spite of the urgency of his guide, he gave way to vertigo and lay spread-eagled on the glass, sick and paralysed.
Far below, mere stirring specks and dots, went the people of the unsleeping city in their perpetual daylight, and the moving platforms ran on their incessant journey.

Messengers and men on unknown businesses shot along the drooping cables and the frail bridges were crowded with men.

It was like peering into a gigantic glass hive, and it lay vertically below him with only a tough glass of unknown thickness to save him from a fall.

The street showed warm and lit, and Graham was wet now to the skin with thawing snow, and his feet were numbed with cold.

For a space he could not move.