Her hair is like, white blonde, but trust me, it’s not her natural color. The agony on the sands now ceased to puzzle her. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. They flash to and fro, they thrill us with expectancy.
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