★★★ Twice or three times in the night, the shuddering blast of a ship’s horn cut through the windows and the shade, into the blank and trackless depths of sleep. Daylight showed the explanation: real blankness, pale fog out every window. The fog thickened, if anything, during and after breakfast, before gradually thinning, leaving a white opacity in the sky at lunchtime. In the afternoon, among the temporary evergreen groves on the sidewalks, the fog-remnants were a golden, light-scattering haze. Pushing a stroller briskly over to and into the Park, trying to stay ahead of the dusk, was enough exertion to make the outer coat a burden. Even when twilight fell on the playground, it was not so cold that children couldn’t rebel against their hoods and hats. Later, there were raindrops sprayed across the dark windowpanes of home, and a wet shine on Broadway in the near distance.