The rain of the other night had been too insignificant and local to do any good.

The brown mud-strip round the lagoon below, was not perceptibly diminished.

She knew that the narrow water channels flowing from their one working artesian bore, must soon be licked up by the flames.

And the Bore in process of construction, was at a standstill for want of workmen.
Bridget gazed out despairingly towards the shrinking horizon and upon the parched plain with the rugged clumps of dun coloured gum trees scattered upon it--the near ones looking like trees of painted tin, sun-blistered.

The swarms of flies, mosquitoes in the veranda offended her.