"I pace the mournful streets
With aching heart."
"Why?" asked Hamilton Beamish.
"It is part of my duties, sir. Each patrolman is assigned a certain portion of the city as a beat."
"I mean, why do you pace with aching heart?"
"Because it is bleeding, sir."
"Bleeding? You mean your heart?"
"Yes, sir. My heart is bleeding. I look at all the sordid gloom and sorrow and my heart bleeds."
"Well, go on. It all seems very peculiar to me, but go on."
"I watch grey men slink past