The wind seemed as though lying in wait for her; with gleeful whistle it tried to snatch her up and bear her off, but she clung to the cold door post, and holding her skirt got down onto the platform and under the shelter of the carriages.

The wind had been powerful on the steps, but on the platform, under the lee of the carriages, there was a lull.

With enjoyment she drew deep breaths of the frozen, snowy air, and standing near the carriage looked about the platform and the lighted station.

The raging tempest rushed whistling between the wheels of the carriages, about the scaffolding, and round the corner of the station.

The carriages, posts, people, everything that was to be seen was covered with snow on one side, and was getting more and more thickly covered.