[A]ll these objects were as well known to me as the cold hearth of my deserted home, and every moss-grown wall and plot of orchard ground, alike as twin lambs are to each other in a stranger's eye, yet to my accustomed gaze bore differences, distinction, and a name.

At midnight they left the air-conditioned dream-world and entered the oven of the street.

to be pinched for money

The same she tempred with fine Mercury / And virgin wax that never yet was seald, / And mingled them with perfect vermily […]