No, he muttered, it's the other way. Batty's the other way. He turned, facing towards the branch road which carries the great current of North Shore life. How soon can I get to Gloucester he demanded of one who brushed against him heavily. He who answered proved to be of the baggage staff, and was at that moment skilfully combining a frown and a whistle behind a towering truck; from this two trunks and a dress-suit case threatened to tumble on a bull-terrier leashed to some thing invisible, and yelping in the darkness behind.