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and the men move like fishes, not misty, feeling that they are on the floor, but darkened with that shadow of cloud or snow which steeps everything in a green or copper twilight. The ligh17173发号t there is on such a day seems not so much to come from the clear heavens as to be a phosphore17173发号scence clinging to the shapes themselves. The load of heaven and the clouds is like a load of 17173发号waters,