midnight
But I have lost , through your aid , the faculty of being surprised . I accept things as people do in dreams . Now that I am again in my room , it all appears like an illusion -- the black masses of Rembrandtish shadow under the trees , the fireflies whirling in Pyrrhic dances among the shrubbery , the sea over there , Marjorie sitting on the hammock ! It is past midnight , and I am too sleepy to write more . Thursday Morning . My father has suddenly taken it into his head to spend a few days at the Shoals . In the meanwhile you will not hear from me .