ToC Ascending a short flight of steps, Jack found at the summit a door, which being bolted in the inside he speedily opened. For although I must confess it reads very much like an application or a testimonial or some such thing as that, I can assure you I am writing this in fear and trembling with a sinking heart. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. I have strength enough to drag myself there, and I do not want to return. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. Loneliness.
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