I tremble with excitement and exhaustion, and stand on the same spot, still whispering oaths and abusive epithets, hiccoughing after the violent crying fit, broken down and apathetic after my frenzied outburst of rage. I stand there for maybe an hour, hiccough and whisper, and hold on to the door. Then I hear voices--a conversation between two men who are coming down the passage. I slink away from the door, drag myself along the walls of the houses, and come out again into the light streets. As I jog along Young’s Hill my brain begins to work in a most peculiar direction. It occurs to me that the wretched hovels down at the corner of the market-place, the stores for loose materials, the old booths for second-hand clothes, are really a disgrace to the place--they spoilt the whole appearance of the market, and were a blot on the town. Fie! away with the rubbish! And I turned over in my mind as I walked on what it would cost to remove the Geographical Survey down there--that handsome building which had always attracted me so much each time I passed it. It would perhaps not be possible to undertake a removal of that kind under two or three hundred pounds. A pretty sum--three hundred pounds! One must admit, a tidy enough little sum for pocket-money! Ha, ha! just to make a start with, eh? and I nodded my head, and conceded that it was a tidy enough bit of pocket-money to make a start with. I was still trembling over my whole body, and hiccoughed now and then violently after my cry. I had a feeling that there was not much life left in me--that I was really singing my last verse. It was almost a matter of indifference to me; it did not trouble me in the least. On the contrary, I wended my way down town, down to the wharf, farther and farther away from my room. I would, for that matter, have willingly laid myself down flat in the street to die. My sufferings were rendering me more and more callous. My sore foot throbbed violently; I had a sensation as if the pain was creeping up through my whole leg. But not even that caused me any particular distress. I had endured worse sensations. In this manner, I reached the railway wharf. There was no traffic, no noise--only here and there a person to be seen, a labourer or sailor slinking round with their hands in their pockets. I took notice of a lame man, who looked sharply at me as we passed one another. I stopped him instinctively, touched my hat, and inquired if he knew if the _Nun_ had sailed. Someway, I couldn’t help snapping my fingers right under the man’s nose, and saying, “Ay, by Jove, the _Nun_; yes, the _Nun_!” which I had totally forgotten. All the same, the thought of her had been smouldering in me. I had carried it about unconsciously. Yes, bless me, the _Nun_ had sailed. He couldn’t tell me where she had sailed to? The man reflects, stands on his long leg, keeps the other up in the air; it dangles a little. “No,” he replies. “Do you know what cargo she was taking in here?”