Summary

Portrait of E. F. Benson E. F. Benson The Countess of Lowndes Square and Other Stories… (1920)

Ten minutes ago the rain had ceased as suddenly as if a tap had been turned off, and, except for the tom-tom that still beat monotonously in the town, a silence of death prevailed. The steam rose thick as sea-mist from the ground; above it a blurred etching of trees appeared and the roof of the mess-room. The grey unreal light shone full into the veranda, and he could see that Boxer was sitting bolt upright on his blanket-bed, looking at Oldham's retreating figure.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of E. F. Benson E. F. Benson The Countess of Lowndes Square and Other Stories… (1920)

Outside, another change had come over the hot, tumultuous night, and, as if the very moon and stars were concerned in this pigmy drama, where but a single life out of the innumerable and infinitesimal little denizens of the world was involved, a queer triangular rent had opened in the rain-swollen sky, and a dim moon and a company of watery stars stared silently down, and to Case's excited senses they appeared hostilely witnessing.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of E. F. Benson E. F. Benson The Countess of Lowndes Square and Other Stories… (1920)

Remote lightning winked on the horizon, followed at long intervals by drowsy thunder, and to the east, in the arch of sky that still remained unclouded, a tawny half-moon had risen, shapeless through the damp air, and illuminating the vapours with dusky crimson. Once more Case splashed the tepid soda-water over a liberal whisky, still pausing before he let his mind consciously dwell on that which lay as heavy over it as over the gasping earth this canopy of cloud.
Source: Wikisource

Get perspective with Kwize: daily news enlightened by great literature