... spread over them a dark patina of age yet there was about them atimeless quality, an air of aloofness from the flow of events, from thepetty affairs of the very mankind for whose shelter they ... aloud as I strode out of that musty old store of his. I didn't know where Furman Streetwas—like most Manhattanites I thought of Brooklyn as some strangebourne the other side of the moon—but ... whorls of dust they went out of space and out of time, to what Otherwhere no one still among us knows, and none will everknow."'Like so many whispering whorls of dust.' Could it...