Autumn leaves blew over the moonlit pavements in such a way as to make the girl who was moving there seem fixed to a sliding sidewalk, letting the motion of the wind and leaves carry her forward.
Her shoes stirred the circling leaves.
Her face slender and milk-white, and in it was a kind of gentle hunger that touched over everything with tireless curiosity.
Pale surprise with dark eyes that were so fixed to the world that no move could escape. Her dress was white and it whispered.He almost thought he heard the motion of her hands. Eyes so dark and shiny and alive that he felt as if he had said something wonderful.
They walked in the warm-cool blowing night on the silvered pavement and there was the faintest breath of fresh apricots and strawberries in the air. her face as bright as snow in the moonlight.
"I like to smell things and look at things, and sometimes stay up all night, walking, and watching the sunrise."
He saw himself in her eyes suspended in two shining drops of bright water, everything was there as if her eyes were two miraculous bit of violet amber that might capture and hold him in tact. Her face, fragile milk crystal with a soft constant light in it. It was not the hysterical light of electricity, but the strangely comfortable and gently flattering light of a candle.
For how many people did you know who refracted you own light to you? People were often blazing away until they whiffed out. How rarely did other people's faces take of you and throw back to you your own expression, your innermost trembling thought?

*"Are you happy?"