Brandon was conscious of little of this as he moved on. Even the thought
of Morris had faded from him. He could not think consecutively. His mind
was broken up like a mirror that had been smashed into a thousand pieces.
He was most truly in a dream. Soon he would wake up, out of this noise,
away from these cries and lights, and would find it all as he had for so
many years known it. He would be sitting in his drawing-room, his legs
stretched out, his wife and daughter near to him, the rumble of the organ
coming through the wall to them, thinking perhaps of to-morrow's duties,
the town quiet all around them, friends and well-wishers everywhere, no
terrible pain in his head, happily arranging how everything should be...
happy...happy.... Ah! how happy that real life was! When he awoke from
his dream he would realise that and thank God for it. When he awoke.... He
stumbled over something, and looking up realised that he was in a very
crowded part of the Fair, a fire was blazing somewhere near, gas-jets,
although the evening was bright and clear, were naming, screams and cries
seemed to make the very sky rock above his head.
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