Mostly, the city mouse has traded in all that vast peace and quiet, the fresh smells of soil and flowers and young buds and pine needles for the company of strangers. But company it is nonetheless, so that when a city mouse digs herself out of her hole late at night, just to shake her mousy thoughts loose, even in the rain, even in the windy, breezy night, she will be able to cavort with the shadows and forms of people out and about, mysterious and fascinating strangers, hurrying, with secrets and twisted plots guiding them through the maze of city streets.