I should think the man who invented them would feel so much like a wizard, that he'd be sort of afraid of himself." The woman answered pleasantly, and would, gladly have continued the conversation, but was called away just then to a customer.

Hidden from view of the street by a large dummy lady in a sealskin coat and fur-trimmed skirt, Mary peeped out from behind it at the panorama rolling past the window.

At first she was intensely interested in the endless stream of strange faces, but when an hour had slipped by and still they came, always strange, always different, a sense of littleness and loneliness seized her, that amounted almost to panic.

She longed to get away from this great myriad-footed monster of a city, back to something small and familiar and quiet; to neighbourly greetings and friendly faces.

The loneliness caused by the strange crowds depressed her.