The Other Side Of The Night [antikvár]

Chapter OneVIt was an ordinary enough New York day; there had been many like it this reluctant, uncertain winterdays which began with a gradual lessening of the night's darkness and the increasing, continuing grayness of a cloudy morning.It was a day as uncertain as its year, and as unpredictable: it was neither cold nor warm for its season: one minute the sun shone brightly, the next it was obscured by clouds: the morning newspapers forecast variable cloudiness and increasing cold. To the north the sky, streaked with purple, augured snow. Across Manhattan the wind blew changeably and fitfully: now east, now south, driving heavy clouds across the sky; as they moved, the streets emerged spasmodically from grayness as spokes of sun illumined a cornice or flooded a doorway, then became gray again.Although it was mid-morning, there were few automobiles in the streets and only scattered handfuls of people. Buses traveled rapidly along; taxis edged nervously from curb to curb, searching for fares. In this desertion, this comparative emptiness there was, strangely enough, an electric expectationfor it was the beginning of the last day before the New Year. On the upper streets and avenues holiday indications were evident: women in furs stepped from limousines, stood for an instant with gloved hands on car doors as they spoke to chauffeurs, looked up7