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She stared at him, perhaps sneered, for he must have seemed a child to her.
The ice grew cold beneath them.
She talked so enchantingly, so wittily, that he forgot the frozen waters or the night coming.
Sasha was like a fox, or an olive tree; like the waves of the sea; like an emerald ;
like nothing he had seen or known in England.
However, in all she said, though open and voluptuous , there was something hidden.
In all she did no matter how daring, there was something concealed.
So the green flame seems hidden in the emerald.
The clearness was only outward; within was a wandering flame.
- Excerpt from the book Orlando by Virginia Woolf |
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