He had thought often of the lonely knight--that indeed should be his attitude to the world.
But now, suddenly, as the scattered Cambridge houses with their dull yellow lights began to creep stealthily through the mist, upon the road, he knew for the first time that loneliness could be terrible.

He was hurrying now, although he had not formerly been conscious of it, hurrying into the lights and comforts and noise of the town.

There might only be for him now a night and day of freedom, but, during that time, he must not, he must not be alone.

The patter of Bunker's feet beside him pleased him.

Bunker was now a fact of great importance to him.
And now he could see further.