Around us still are some stray ramblers, who presently assume the air of ghosts, with their long black or white draperies, and noiseless tread.

And then, not a soul; nothing but the sand and the moon.
But now almost at once, after the short intervening nothingness, we find ourselves in a new town; streets with little low houses, little cross-roads, little squares, all of them white, on whitened sands, beneath a white moon.

.

.

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