The place was deserted and lay bare and ugly in the dull light.

The gallant ship of the night before was seen to be a poor, flimsy make-shift.

No wonder Mr.
Rosenblatt had wished billows to engulf it and mist to shroud it.

He sat on a beam lying at the ship end of the pool and stared moodily at the pitiful make-believe.
He rounded his shoulders and pulled up the collar of his coat.

He knew he should be walking, but doubted his strength.