The man would move away and the look of tired apathy settle itself once more upon the clerk's features as soon as he or she were left alone.
As it grew later, there might be seen men with hats on their heads, moving about--in the light one moment, lost in the darkness the next.
Some of them were pulling gloves on to their hands, or lighting cigarettes, others would be pinning a bunch of violets into their button-holes, or brushing the shoulders of their coats.

These were the ones who had finished for the day.

It could always be known when they had taken their departure.

The heads of the clerks would twist towards the interior of the room.

You could almost imagine the wistful expression on their faces from the bare outlines of their attitudes as they turned in their chairs.