Up to this time one woman resembled another; feminine faces made no particular impression on his memory.

He would have remembered the face of the man who had just passed, for the very fact that he had thought of it often.

The man had come into the dim radiance of the far light, then had melted into the blackness of the night again, leaving as a sign of his presence the creak of his shoes and the aroma of a cigarette.
Fitzgerald tramped on cheerfully.

It was not an unpleasant climb, only dark.

The millionaire's home seemed to grow up out of a fine park.
There was a great iron fence inclosing the grounds, and the lights on top of the gates set the dull red trunks of the pines a-glowing.