The trucks stood full of wet, bright coal.

Water ran down the sides of the waggons, over the white "C.W.

and Co.".

Colliers, walking indifferent to the rain, were streaming down the line and up the field, a grey, dismal host.

Morel put up his umbrella, and took pleasure from the peppering of the drops thereon.
All along the road to Bestwood the miners tramped, wet and grey and dirty, but their red mouths talking with animation.