1 With a feather, a blue feather.
2 Red and silver, blue and yellow gave off warmth and sweetness.
3 Now comes the lightning," she muttered, "from the stone blue sky.
4 See the flowers, how they ray their redness, whiteness, silverness and blue.
5 The flat fields glared green yellow, blue yellow, red yellow, then blue again.
6 She touched her bony forehead upon which a blue vein wriggled like a blue worm.
7 He saw her standing against the green glass, the fig tree, and the blue hydrangea, knife in hand.
8 At that she smiled a ravishing girl's smile, as if the wind had warmed the wintry blue in her eyes to amber.
9 For a moment she stood there, eminent, dominant, on the soap box with the blue and sailing clouds behind her.
10 Beyond that was blue, pure blue, black blue; blue that had never filtered down; that had escaped registration.
11 Hirsute, handsome, virile, the young man in blue jacket and brass buttons, standing in a beam of dusty light, was her husband.
12 And he came into the dining-room looking like a cricketer, in flannels, wearing a blue coat with brass buttons; though he was enraged.
13 Silently they manoeuvred in their water world, poised in the blue patch made by the sky, or shot silently to the edge where the grass, trembling, made a fringe of nodding shadow.
14 Not to see the hams that hung from hooks, or the butter on a blue slate, or the joint for tomorrow's dinner, but to see the cellar that opened out of the larder and its carved arch.
15 Out they came from the bushes--men in flowered waistcoats, white waistcoats and buckled shoes; women wearing brocades tucked up, hooped and draped; glass stars, blue ribands and imitation pearls made them look the very image of Lords and Ladies.
16 It took her five seconds in actual time, in mind time ever so much longer, to separate Grace herself, with blue china on a tray, from the leather-covered grunting monster who was about, as the door opened, to demolish a whole tree in the green steaming undergrowth of the primeval forest.
17 His hair curled; far from running away, as many chins did, his was firm; the nose straight, if short; the eyes, of course, with that hair, blue; and finally to make the type complete, there was something fierce, untamed, in the expression which incited her, even at forty-five, to furbish up her ancient batteries.
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