In a moment the storm would abate.

The tired women, their hair disarranged by the wind, would fall asleep on the benches.

There were torn and ragged dresses, low-necked white gowns, covered with dust.
The air they breathed consisted mainly of dust.

It lay upon their clothes, rose at every step, obscured the light of the lamp, vexed one's eyes, and raised a sort of cloud before the tired faces.

The cars which they entered at last, after hours of waiting, were saturated with it also.