Below, the street lamp was a blurred pearl. He searched the dense and foggy distances, was lost in them. "What are you looking at?" She came up, surprising, behind. "Oh." The night was thick with burnt odors. "I don't know." She picked up the bottle and drank, "All right," and put it down; then said, "You're looking for something. You've got your eyes all squinched up. You were craning way out and… oh, you can't see anything down there for the smoke!" "The river," he said. "Hm?" She looked again. "I can't see the river." "What river?" "When I came off the waterfront, across the bridge. This place, it was like two blocks away, maybe. And then, when I first came up here, you could just see the water, as though suddenly the river was a half a mile off. It was right through there. But now I can't see…" craning again. She said: "You couldn't see the river from here. It's nearly… I don't know exactly; but it's quite a way." "I could this morning." "Maybe, but I doubt it." Then she said: "You were here this morning?" He said: "There isn't any smoke over there.
