pulled him through the people.
They went on an overhead train too. She called it an "El." They had to go up on a high platform to catch it. Old Dudley looked over the rail and could see the people rushing and the automobiles rushing under him. He felt sick. He put one hand on the rail and sank down on the wooden floor of the platform. The daughter screamed and pulled him over from the edge. "Do you want to fall off and kill yourself?" she shouted.
Through a crack in the boards he could see the cars swimming in the street. "I don't care,” he murmured, "I don't care if I do or not."
"Come on," she said, "you'll feel better when we get home."
"Home?" he repeated. The cars moved in a rhythm below him.
"Come on," she said, "here it comes; we've just got time to make it." They'd just had time to make all of them.
They made that one. They came back to the building and the apartment. The apartment was too tight. There was no plate to be where there wasn't somebody else. The kitchen opened into the bathroom and the bathroom opened into everything else and you were always where you started from. At home there was upstairs and the basement and the
