A moment later we were roaring through the blackness of the Hudson River tunnel.
There is something fine in the abruptness of the escape from New York City by the Pennsylvania Railroad.

From the time you enter the station you are as good as gone.

There is no progress between the city's tenements, with untidy bedding airing in some windows and fat old slatterns leaning out from others to survey the sordidness and squalor of the streets below.

A swift plunge into darkness, some thundering moments, and your train glides out upon the wide wastes of the New Jersey meadows.

The city is gone.