“What other things?”

Taking the weed from his lips, he threw the remnant amongst the shrubs, where, for a moment, it lay glowing in the gloom.

“Look, at it,” said he: “is not that spark like an eye watching you and me?”

He took a turn down the walk; presently returning, he went on⁠—

“I have seen, Miss Lucy, things to me unaccountable, that have made me watch all night for a solution, and I have not yet found it.”

The tone was peculiar; my veins thrilled; he saw me shiver.

“Are you afraid? Whether is it of my words or that red jealous eye just winking itself out?”

“I am cold; the night grows dark and late, and the air is changed; it is time to go in.”