He started to walk home through the rain.

It was a long way to Polk Street, as the last manufactory he had visited was beyond even Folsom Street, and not far from the city front.
By the time McTeague reached Polk Street his teeth were chattering with the cold.

He was wet from head to foot.

As he was passing Heise's harness shop a sudden deluge of rain overtook him and he was obliged to dodge into the vestibule for shelter.

He, who loved to be warm, to sleep and to be well fed, was icy cold, was exhausted and footsore from tramping the city.