nearly midnight
What was the idea ? I wonder . Ah , well , I have my garden , and for that I am indebted to Archie the garrulous . It is nearly midnight now . The roar of London has died away to a fretful murmur , and somehow across this baking town a breeze has found its way . It whispers over the green grass , in the ivy that climbs my wall , in the soft murky folds of my curtains . Whispers -- what ?