midday
Their tongues join together in syllabling the sharp-cut words , which for ever slice asunder time and the broad-backed moors . Plaint and belief and elegy , despair and triumph , but for the most part good sense and jolly indifference , go trampling out of the windows any time these five hundred years . Still , as Mrs. Jarvis said , stepping out on to the moors , `` How quiet it is ! '' Quiet at midday , except when the hunt scatters across it ; quiet in the afternoon , save for the drifting sheep ; at night the moor is perfectly quiet . A garnet brooch has dropped into its grass . A fox pads stealthily . A leaf turns on its edge .