Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. Having made a tolerably good meal upon the loaf, overcome by fatigue, Jack turned into a barn in Stoke Newington, and slept till late in the day, when he awakened much refreshed. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. ” He said, sucking down some Pepsi.
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