Eleven o'clock struck from the power-house clock.

Lights were extinguished.

At one o'clock the cable stopped, leaving an abrupt silence in the air.
All at once it seemed very still.

The ugly noises were the occasional footfalls of a policeman and the persistent calling of ducks and geese in the closed market.

The street was asleep.
Day after day, McTeague saw the same panorama unroll itself.