Below was Burnamy behind the tubbed evergreens, sitting tilted in his chair against the house wall, with the spark of his cigar fainting and flashing like an American firefly.

Agatha went down to the door, after a little delay, and seemed surprised to find him there; at least she said, "Oh!" in a tone of surprise.
Burnamy stood up, and answered, "Nice night." "Beautiful!" she breathed.

"I didn't suppose the sky in Germany could ever be so clear." "It seems to be doing its best." "The flowers over there look like ghosts in the light," she said dreamily.
"They're not.

Don't you want to get your hat and wrap, and go over and expose the fraud ?" "Oh," she answered, as if it were merely a question of the hat and wrap, "I have them." They sauntered through the garden walks for a while, long enough to have ascertained that there was not a veridical phantom among the flowers, if they had been looking, and then when they came to their accustomed seat, they sat down, and she said, "I don't know that I've seen the moon so clear since we left Carlsbad." At the last word his heart gave a jump that seemed to lodge it in his throat and kept him from speaking, so that she could resume without interruption, "I've got something of yours, that you left at the Posthof.

The girl that broke the dishes found it, and Lili gave it to Mrs.March for you." This did not account for Agatha's having the thing, whatever it was; but when she took a handkerchief from her belt, and put out her hand with it toward him, he seemed to find that her having it had necessarily followed.