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Under
the
glass
portcullis
of
a
theatre
Amory
stood
,
watching
the
first
great
drops
of
rain
splatter
down
and
flatten
to
dark
stains
on
the
sidewalk
.
The
air
became
gray
and
opalescent
;
a
solitary
light
suddenly
outlined
a
window
over
the
way
;
then
another
light
;
then
a
hundred
more
danced
and
glimmered
into
vision
.
Under
his
feet
a
thick
,
iron-studded
skylight
turned
yellow
;
in
the
street
the
lamps
of
the
taxi-cabs
sent
out
glistening
sheens
along
the
already
black
pavement
.
The
unwelcome
November
rain
had
perversely
stolen
the
day
's
last
hour
and
pawned
it
with
that
ancient
fence
,
the
night
.
The
silence
of
the
theatre
behind
him
ended
with
a
curious
snapping
sound
,
followed
by
the
heavy
roaring
of
a
rising
crowd
and
the
interlaced
clatter
of
many
voices
.
The
matinee
was
over
.
He
stood
aside
,
edged
a
little
into
the
rain
to
let
the
throng
pass
.
A
small
boy
rushed
out
,
sniffed
in
the
damp
,
fresh
air
and
turned
up
the
collar
of
his
coat
;
came
three
or
four
couples
in
a
great
hurry
;
came
a
further
scattering
of
people
whose
eyes
as
they
emerged
glanced
invariably
,
first
at
the
wet
street
,
then
at
the
rain-filled
air
,
finally
at
the
dismal
sky
;
last
a
dense
,
strolling
mass
that
depressed
him
with
its
heavy
odor
compounded
of
the
tobacco
smell
of
the
men
and
the
fetid
sensuousness
of
stale
powder
on
women
.
After
the
thick
crowd
came
another
scattering
;
a
stray
half-dozen
;
a
man
on
crutches
;
finally
the
rattling
bang
of
folding
seats
inside
announced
that
the
ushers
were
at
work
.
New
York
seemed
not
so
much
awakening
as
turning
over
in
its
bed
.
Pallid
men
rushed
by
,
pinching
together
their
coat-collars
;
a
great
swarm
of
tired
,
magpie
girls
from
a
department-store
crowded
along
with
shrieks
of
strident
laughter
,
three
to
an
umbrella
;
a
squad
of
marching
policemen
passed
,
already
miraculously
protected
by
oilskin
capes
.
The
rain
gave
Amory
a
feeling
of
detachment
,
and
the
numerous
unpleasant
aspects
of
city
life
without
money
occurred
to
him
in
threatening
procession
.
There
was
the
ghastly
,
stinking
crush
of
the
subway
--
the
car
cards
thrusting
themselves
at
one
,
leering
out
like
dull
bores
who
grab
your
arm
with
another
story
;
the
querulous
worry
as
to
whether
some
one
is
n't
leaning
on
you
;
a
man
deciding
not
to
give
his
seat
to
a
woman
,
hating
her
for
it
;
the
woman
hating
him
for
not
doing
it
;
at
worst
a
squalid
phantasmagoria
of
breath
,
and
old
cloth
on
human
bodies
and
the
smells
of
the
food
men
ate
--
at
best
just
people
--
too
hot
or
too
cold
,
tired
,
worried
.
He
pictured
the
rooms
where
these
people
lived
--
where
the
patterns
of
the
blistered
wall-papers
were
heavy
reiterated
sunflowers
on
green
and
yellow
backgrounds
,
where
there
were
tin
bathtubs
and
gloomy
hallways
and
verdureless
,
unnamable
spaces
in
back
of
the
buildings
;
where
even
love
dressed
as
seduction
--
a
sordid
murder
around
the
corner
,
illicit
motherhood
in
the
flat
above
.
And
always
there
was
the
economical
stuffiness
of
indoor
winter
,
and
the
long
summers
,
nightmares
of
perspiration
between
sticky
enveloping
walls
...
dirty
restaurants
where
careless
,
tired
people
helped
themselves
to
sugar
with
their
own
used
coffee-spoons
,
leaving
hard
brown
deposits
in
the
bowl
.
It
was
not
so
bad
where
there
were
only
men
or
else
only
women
;
it
was
when
they
were
vilely
herded
that
it
all
seemed
so
rotten
.
It
was
some
shame
that
women
gave
off
at
having
men
see
them
tired
and
poor
--
it
was
some
disgust
that
men
had
for
women
who
were
tired
and
poor
.
It
was
dirtier
than
any
battle-field
he
had
seen
,
harder
to
contemplate
than
any
actual
hardship
moulded
of
mire
and
sweat
and
danger
,
it
was
an
atmosphere
wherein
birth
and
marriage
and
death
were
loathsome
,
secret
things
.
