So with the lamps all put out, the moon sunk, and a thin rain drummingon the roof a downpouring of immense darkness began. Nothing, itseemed, could survive the flood, the profusion of darkness which, creepingin at keyholes and crevices, stole round window blinds, came intobedrooms, swallowed up here a jug and basin, there a bowl of red andyellow dahlias, there the sharp edges and firm bulk of a chest of drawers.

　　Not only was furniture confounded; there was scarcely anything left ofbody or mind by which one could say, "This is he" or "This is she." Sometimesa hand was raised as if to clutch something or ward off something,or somebody groaned, or somebody laughed aloud as if sharing a jokewith nothingness.

　　Nothing stirred in the drawing-room or in the dining-room or on thestaircase. Only through the rusty hinges and swollen sea-moistenedwoodwork certain airs, detached from the body of the wind (the housewas ramshackle after all) crept round corners and ventured indoors. Almostone might imagine them, as they entered the drawing-room questioningand wondering, toying with the flap of hanging wall-paper, asking,would it hang much longer, when would it fall? Then smoothlybrushing the walls, they passed on musingly as if asking the red and yellowroses on the wall-paper whether they would fade, and questioning(gently, for there was time at their disposal) the torn letters in thewastepaper basket, the flowers, th............