He wound up by saying he would think it over, and came away.

The man he had been talking to sensed his condition in a vague way.
"I don't think he wants to buy," he said to himself.

"He doesn't talk right." The afternoon was as gray as lead and cold.

It was blowing up a disagreeable winter wind.

He visited a place far up on the east side, near Sixty-ninth Street, and it was five o'clock, and growing dim, when he reached there.