CHAPTERVI
THORPE\'Slife-longhabitofearlyrisingbroughthimdownstairsnextmorningbeforeanybodyelseinthehouse，apparently，wasastir。Atallevents，hesawnooneineitherthehallortheglassvestibule，ashewanderedabout。Bothdoorswerewideopen，however，tothemild，dampmorningair。
Hefoundononeoftheracksacapthatwaslessuncomfortablethantheothers，andsaunteredforthtolookabouthim。
Hisnerveswerebynomeansinsosereneastateashisreasontoldhimtheyoughttobe。Thedisquietingimpressionofbaddreamshungabouthim。Thewakinghour——alwaysaneviltimeforhimintheselatterdaysofanxiety——hadbeenthismorningapeculiarlydepressingaffair。Ithadseemedtohim，inthefirstminutesofrevivingconsciousness，thathewasahopelesslyruinedanddiscreditedman；
theillusionofdisasterhadbeen，indeed，socompleteandvividthat，evennow，morethananhourlater，hehadnotshakenoffitseffects。