She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. She withdrew her head with a little moan, and resumed her flight. Each wing had a small cupola; and, in the centre of the pile rose a larger dome, surmounted by a gilded ball and vane. The latter began to heave himself up from the sand. Strewn across the bed was a multitude of jumbled garments.
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