Suddenly he perceived that he was sure of God. Not perhaps of the God of Nicaea, but what did these poor little quibblings and definitions of the theologians matter?

The threadbare red and gold carpeting rugburned his cheek, but he rolled over at once and kicked the door shut.

He smiled pleasantly as I said this, and then drew out of his coattail pocket a small tin box, which, until he opened it, I supposed contained a drinking-cup—one of those folding tin cups. […]

The clouds moved driftingly across the horizon.