Three painted Italian vases, filled with last summer's rose leaves and carefully sealed lest the faint perfume should be lost, stood symmetrically on this projection, their contents slowly ripening for future use.

The heap of white ashes, under which the wood coals were still alive in the big brazier, diffused a little warmth through the chilly room.
The two girls were sitting at opposite ends of the table.

The one held a long goose-quill pen, and before her lay several large sheets of paper covered with fine writing.

Her eyes followed the lines slowly, and from time to time she made a correction in the manuscript.

As she read, her lips moved to form words, but she made no sound.