Was that the boy he knew as himself?
Was that Sandy Kilday who had come to America to seek his fortune?
He stared in a sort of fascinated horror at that other boy in the mirror.

Before he had been afraid to be by himself, now he was afraid of himself.
He seized his cap, and blowing out the lamp, plunged down four flights of steep narrow steps and out into the street.

A number of people were crowding into a street-car marked "Exposition." Sandy, ever a straw in the current, joined them.

Once more down among his fellow-men, he began to feel more comfortable.

He cheerfully paid his entrance fee with one of the two silver coins in his pocket.
The first building he entered was the art gallery, and the first picture that caught his eye held him spellbound.