Lubin was there, tidying up, but he did not feel any inclination to talk to Lubin or anybody else.

He liked watching Lubin, however, for Lubin was part of the garden, and all his associations with him were pleasant.

The scent of the flowers and the grass possessed him.

The sun was far from setting, and a young crescent moon was hovering high in the heavens, looking like a silver sickle against the blue.

From the distant church came the sound of bells ringing for even-song, faint as horns of elf-land, through the still air.