_It is about nine P.M.; in the West, a faint saffron flush
is lingering above the green and opal sea, while the upper
part of the church tower still keeps the warm glow of sunset.
The stars are beginning to appear, and a mellow half moon is
rising in a deep violet sky. Lamps are twinkling above the
dusky cliffs, and along the curve of the shore._
_The Reader will kindly imagine himself on a seat at the
end of the Pier, where the Sand is playing, and scraps of
conversation from his neighbours and passing promenaders,
reach his ear involuntarily._
_Fair Promenader_ (_roused to enthusiasm by the surroundings_). Oh,
don't it look lovely at night? (_Impulsively._) I can't _'elp_ sayin'
so.
_Her Companion_ (_whose emotions are less easily stirred_). Why?
_The Fair P._ (_apologetically_). Oh, I don't know exactly--these sort
o' scenes always _do_ take my fancy.
_Her Comp._ (_making a concession to her weakness_). Well, I must say
it's picturesque enough--what with the gas outside the 'All by the
Sea, and the lamps on the whilk stalls.
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