"Imagine farming a ranch the size of his without a foreman." Harran showed Osterman and Annixter where they were to sleep, in adjoining rooms.

Magnus soon afterward retired.
Osterman found an excuse for going to bed, but Annixter and Harran remained in the latter's room, in a haze of blue tobacco smoke, talking, talking.

But at length, at the end of all argument, Annixter got up, remarking: "Well, I'm going to turn in.

It's nearly two o'clock." He went to his room, closing the door, and Harran, opening his window to clear out the tobacco smoke, looked out for a moment across the country toward the south.
The darkness was profound, impenetrable; the rain fell with an uninterrupted roar.

Near at hand one could hear the sound of dripping eaves and foliage and the eager, sucking sound of the drinking earth, and abruptly while Harran stood looking out, one hand upon the upraised sash, a great puff of the outside air invaded the room, odourous with the reek of the soaking earth, redolent with fertility, pungent, heavy, tepid.