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She attracted Miriam at once with the shell-white and shell-pink of her complexion, her firm chubby baby-mouth and her wide gaze. Her face shone in the room, even her hair done just like the Martins', but fluffy where theirs was flat and shiny seemed to give out light, shadowy-dark though it was. Her figure was straight and flat, and she moved, thought Miriam, as though she had no feet.
She was dressed in the new shell-white toga that was fashionable just then. It certainly set off her jet-black hair, shining on the terrace, in the light of Proxima's two moons.... But it wasn't black, it was blonde. And she wasn't leaning against his arm on the terrace, she was standing in front of him, and he was lying on the brittle snow. There was a Stoltz in her bare right hand.
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