"You know very well that I do. Come and see me to-morrow. Say you will,
for I must go now."
"Go now!"
"Do you know what time it is? It is past seven."
She followed him to the gate of the little garden. The lamps were
lighted far away in the suburbs. Again he asked her to come and see him.
"I cannot to-morrow; to-morrow will be Sunday."
His footsteps echoed through the chill twilight, and seeing a thin moon
afloat like a feather in the sky, she thought of Omar's moon, that used
to seek the lovers in their garden, and that one evening sought one of
them in vain.