The air all round was intangible, neither here nor there, and there was an unreal noise of banjoes, or suchlike music.
As the golden swim of light overhead died out, the moon gained brightness, and seemed to begin to smile forth her ascendancy.

The dark woods on the opposite shore melted into universal shadow.

And amid this universal under-shadow, there was a scattered intrusion of lights.

Far down the lake were fantastic pale strings of colour, like beads of wan fire, green and red and yellow.

The music came out in a little puff, as the launch, all illuminated, veered into the great shadow, stirring her outlines of half-living lights, puffing out her music in little drifts.
All were lighting up.