An extraordinary thing, a dash of the divine in it, to be actually alone.

She was in that perfect innocence, that purity which is solitude.
I desecrated her solitude with my eyes, but she did not know it, and so /she/ was not desecrated.
She went over to the window with brightening eyes and swinging hands in her apron of the colour of the nocturnal sky.

Her face and the upper part of her body were illuminated.

She seemed to be in heaven.
She sat down on the sofa, a great low red shadow in the depths of the room near the window.

She leaned her broom beside her.