The intervals between the paroxysms were filled with intolerable waiting and the weight of intolerable darkness.
'Come out into the Park,' said Torpenhow.

'You haven't stirred out since the beginning of things.' 'What's the use?
There's no movement in the dark; and, besides,'-- he paused irresolutely at the head of the stairs,--'something will run over me.' 'Not if I'm with you.

Proceed gingerly.' The roar of the streets filled Dick with nervous terror, and he clung to Torpenhow's arm.

'Fancy having to feel for a gutter with your foot!' he said petulantly, as he turned into the Park.

'Let's curse God and die.' 'Sentries are forbidden to pay unauthorised compliments.