It is almost cool.

It is quite stiff now." She took the little flat cake up with the tongs, very carefully, and held it before his eyes.

The light fell through it from the window, and her head was close to his, as they both looked at it together.
"I never dreamed of such a colour," said Zorzi, his face flushing with excitement.
"There never was such a colour before," answered Marietta.

"It is like the juice of a ripe pomegranate that has just been cut, only there is more light in it." "It is like a great ruby--the rubies that the jewellers call 'pigeon's blood.'" "My father always said it should be blood-red," said Marietta.

"But I thought he meant something different, something more scarlet." "I thought so, too.