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Rh, as if she were looking through atmosphere within atmosphere, invisible at other hours than those of the greyness of the ending night and the beginning of the morning melancholy. . . . The two irrealities remained grey against grey; and suddenly Marietje felt very cold and shivered, half naked as she was; and, in her shivering, it seemed to her that, very quickly, the shadows themselves shivered, as with a start of surprise, and disappeared, because she had dared to stare at them. Nothing was outlined any more against the conservatory-windows; only the morning between the trees grew paler: there was even a streak of white. . ..

Marietje was cold. She left the room, forgot to shut the door after her and, going down the passage, made for the little back staircase and here also forgot to shut the door. Up, up she crept, shivering, with the noiseless tread of the soft slippers; across the attic now; and she stole into bed, quite cooled, and, after just thinking about what she had seen dimly outlined—perhaps—against the grey conservatory-windows, she fell asleep, peacefully, and dozed until late in the morning, peacefully and like a cold virgin now, with the bedclothes drawn up to her chin.