Come and sit with me.

I, too, am tired." "Well, for awhile," says she reluctantly.
It is with evident regret that she takes every step that leads her away from the dancing-room.
The larger conservatory is but dimly lit with lamps covered with pale pink shades.

The soft musical tinkling of a fountain, hidden somewhere amongst the flowering shrubs, adds a delicious sense of coolness to the air.

The delicate perfume of heliotrope mingles with the breath of the roses, yellow and red and amber, that, standing in their pots, nod their heads drowsily.

The begonias, too, seem half dead with sleep.