Indeed, the gratification of any appetite becomes a sordid affair when the mind is stagnant and the body merely asking for its food.

But in the last three years, Traill had gone through this same performance a thousand times; a thousand times he had looked out of the little circular window on the top floor of the house in Lower Regent Street where he lived; a thousand times he had taken a coin out of his pocket and let the head or the tail decide between the two restaurants which he most usually frequented.
On this night there was no tossing of a coin.

He had not even so much interest in the meal as that.

Making his way across the Circus, he entered a restaurant in Shaftesbury Avenue, and passed down the stairs to the grill-room.
The music, the lights, the haze of smoke and the scent of food were depressing.

The whole atmosphere rolled forward to meet him as he came through the doors.