The street sloped down-hill, and the backs were open to the fields.

So he saw a curious succession of lighted windows, between which jutted the intermediary back premises, scullery and outhouse, in dark little blocks.

It was something like the keyboard of a piano: more still, like a succession of musical notes.

For the rectangular planes of light were of different intensities, some bright and keen, some soft, warm, like candle-light, and there was one surface of pure red light, one or two were almost invisible, dark green.

So the long scale of lights seemed to trill across the darkness, now bright, now dim, swelling and sinking.