A few fishermen in their oilskins seemed to emphasise the wetness and dismalness of England as they hurried down to the harbour in their great sea-boots.

On the uplands a fine drizzle veiled the landscape, and showed the gnarled and sparse trees to small advantage.
Lucille sat with close-pressed lips and looked out of the streaming windows.

There were unshed tears in her eyes, and I grimly realised the futility of human effort.

All my plans had been frustrated by a passing rain.
At home, however, I found all comfortable enough, and fires alight in the hall and principal rooms.
It was late in the day that I came upon Lucille alone in the drawing-room.

She was looking out of the window across the bleak table-land to the sea.
"I am sorry, Mademoiselle," I said, suddenly conscious of the stiff bareness of my ancestral home, "that things are not brighter.