Through the open door, stealthily, came the scent of madonna lilies, almost as if it were prowling abroad.

Suddenly he got up and went out of doors.
The beauty of the night made him want to shout.

A half-moon, dusky gold, was sinking behind the black sycamore at the end of the garden, making the sky dull purple with its glow.

Nearer, a dim white fence of lilies went across the garden, and the air all round seemed to stir with scent, as if it were alive.

He went across the bed of pinks, whose keen perfume came sharply across the rocking, heavy scent of the lilies, and stood alongside the white barrier of flowers.