The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. During the week, her uniform was the blue and white scrubs of a nurse, the job she had suffered at for twenty-seven years. I mean that the point is that vividness of perception is the essential factor of beauty; but, of course, vividness may be created by a whisper. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard.
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