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The street and the river were dirty yellow, the bridge was dirty grey, and the hills were dirty purple.
When she came into Miss Minchin's sitting room in answer to her summons, her face was white and her eyes had dark rings around them.
The horses stopped to breathe again, and the guard got down to skid the wheel for the descent, and open the coach-door to let the passengers in.
She passed now dancing lightly across his memory as she had been that night at the carnival ball, her white dress a little lifted, a white spray nodding in her hair.
