The need of sleep overcame him like a narcotic, but as soon as he was about to lose himself he would be suddenly and violently awakened by the same shock, the same jangling recoil of his nerves.

Then his hands and head seemed to swell; next, it was as though the whole room was too small for him.

He threw open the window and, leaning upon his elbows, looked out.
The clouds had begun to break, the rain was gradually ceasing, leaving in the air a damp, fresh smell, the smell of wet asphalt and the odour of dripping woodwork.

It was warm; the atmosphere was dank, heavy, tepid.

One or two stars were out, and a faint gray light showed him the vast reach of roofs below stretching away to meet the abrupt rise of Telegraph Hill.