As it was, the Chain Pier was more like home to me than any other spot on earth, because of the one hour I had spent there.
The wind began to freshen and blow coldly where I sat.

I had no motive in changing my seat, except to escape the sharpness of the breeze.

I crossed to the other side, where the white line of cliffs lay--away from the brilliant lights of the west pier, hidden behind the wooden structure erected to shelter those on the pier.

I gave myself up to my dreams.
I cannot tell how it was, but to-night many ghostly stories that I had read about piers came to my mind.

For instance, now, how easy it would be for any man to steal up to me through the thick, soft, shadowy mist, and murder me before I had time even to utter a cry, I might be thrown over into the sea.
Then I said to myself, what a foolish thought! I was close to many people, such a murder was quite impossible.