It was a dark night, but the sky was full of stars, full of golden
mystery.
The mountains rose black, vast, disquieting. A tumultuous choir of
invisible katydids was reciting an interminable poem on an
unpoetic subject that had something to do with Miss Tevkin. The
air was even richer in aroma than it had been in the morning, but
its breath seemed to be part of the uncanny stridulation of the
katydids. The windows of the dancing-pavilion beyond the level
part of the lawn gleamed like so many sheets of yellow fire.
Presently its door flew open, sending a slanting shaft of light over
the grass
I found a chair on the veranda, but I was restless, and the chatter of
two women in front of me grated on my nerves. I wondered where
Miss Tevkin and her companion were at this minute. I was saying
to myself that I would never come near them again, that I was
going to see Fanny; but I did not cease wondering where they
were. The two women in front of me were discussing the relative
virtues and faults of little boys and little girls.
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