” The cab rumbled off. Wood wound it up by a description of the drenching he had undergone at the Mint pump, the other could hold out no longer, but, leaning back in his chair, gave free scope to his merriment. Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. A disconcerting gray eye that had a mystifying depth. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture.
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