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When his host followed him out on the staircase with a candle, to

light him down the stairs, the day was coldly looking in through

its grimy windows. When he got out of the house, the air was cold

and sad, the dull sky overcast, the river dark and dim, the whole

scene like a lifeless desert. And wreaths of dust were spinning

round and round before the morning blast, as if the desert-sand

had risen far away, and the first spray of it in its advance had

begun to overwhelm the city.