The lights are steady.

His eyes are bright.

The bank is quite ready to stay open for such a run of luck in its favor.
The bell of the City Hall clangs three in the morning as a young man emerges from Thiel's, and hurries, then saunters, up Broadway.

His motions are fitful, his dress is deranged, and his hair matted.

His face, in the full moonlight, is dogged and dangerous.