By nine all the fire and confusion had gone out of the sky, leaving wedges of apple-green and plates of pale yellow; and by ten the lanterns on the boat were making twisted colours upon the waves, elongated or squat, as the waves stretched or humped themselves.

The beam from the lighthouse strode rapidly across the water.

Infinite millions of miles away powdered stars twinkled; but the waves slapped the boat, and crashed, with regular and appalling solemnity, against the rocks.
Although it would be possible to knock at the cottage door and ask for a glass of milk, it is only thirst that would compel the intrusion.

Yet perhaps Mrs.Pascoe would welcome it.

The summer's day may be wearing heavy.