A driving pall of rain, black as the clouds, came sweeping on to obscure the bridge and the gleaming walls and the shining valley.

The lightning played incessantly, streaking down through opaque darkness of rain.

The roar of the wind, with its strange knell and the re-crashing echoes, mingled with the roar of the flooding rain, and all seemingly were deadened and drowned in a world of sound.
In the dimming pale light Venters looked down upon the girl.

She had sunk into his arms, upon his breast, burying her face.

She clung to him.
He felt the softness of her, and the warmth, and the quick heave of her breast.