The room was quite dark. The oblong window showed the night sky pricked here and there with stars.

How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, / Seem to me all the uses of this world!

With a little manœuvring they contrived to meet on the doorstep which now, in mid-morning, was in a boiling stream of passers-by, hurrying business people speeding past in a flurry of fumes and dust in the bright haze.

For months he insisted that he did not want the nomination, would not seek it, and would only reluctantly accept a genuine draft. Despite Scranton's repeated statements, it was behind him that anti-Goldwater Republican leaders late last week tried to rally—and Scranton showed signs of acquiescence.