In the bank on Nassau Street, which he had entered hundreds of times, where tellers, guards, junior officers, and the manager himself knew him as the estimable Mr. McCoy of Pierce & Pierce and called him by name, where he was so esteemed, in fact, they had given him a personal loan of $1.8 million to buy his apartment—and that loan cost him $21,000 a month!—and where was it going to come from!—oh God!—he now noticed the smallest things ... the egg-and-dart molding around the cornice on the main floor . . . the old bronze shades on the lamps on the check-writing desks in the middle of the lobby . . . the spiral fluting on the posts supporting the railing between the lobby and the section where the officers sat ... All so solid! so precise! so orderly! . . . and now so specious! such a mockery! ... so worthless, offering no protection at all ...