Horace Benbow in his clean, wretchedly fitting khaki which but served to accentuate his <fine and delicate
futility> air of fine and delicate futility, and laden with an astonishing impedimenta of knapsacks and
kitbags and paper-wrapped parcels, got off the two-thirty train. His sister called to him across the
light clotting of descending passengers and passengers waiting to get on, and he roved his tense pre-
occupied gaze in a dazed fashion, like a somnambulist <wa> rousing with an effort to avoid traffic, a-
bout the agglomerate faces. "Hello, hello," he said, then he thrust himself through the <circle> knot of
people and laid his baggage on the edge of the platform and moved with intent haste up the length of
the train toward the baggage car.