Цитаты из книги автора Vicente Blasco Ibáñez The Cabin

was slowly crumbling

yet she had not reached

The sun rising like an enormous red wafer from behind the trees and houses which hid the horizon, shot forth blinding needles of gold

was already returning

had just entered

was coming out

The day had now completely dawned.

became gradually more and more defined.

were growing ever noisier