Are there no other stories in the world except yours, and are all men busy with your business? Suppose we grant the details. Perhaps when the man in the street did not seem to see you, it was only his cunning. Perhaps when the policeman asked you your name, it was only because he knew it already. But how much happier you would be if you only knew that these people cared nothing about you. How much larger your life would be if your self could become smaller in it—if
