The General went to the window and looked out.

The houses had been left behind and around them was a country of grey mud-flats with the river dragging its sluggish length through it like a great serpent.

There was a windmill on the horizon, breaking the uniform grey of land and river and sky.

The sky was heavy with coming snow.
The guard of the train was standing on the line, beating his two arms against his breast to warm them, and answering stolidly the impatient questions of the passengers.
"Obstruction on the line in front, sir," he said, addressing nobody in particular.

"Waggon broke away from the siding and got on to our track.
There's a breakdown gang doing its level best to get us clear.