Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           Thewaterintheirrigatingditchwaswellup.Therewasnocloudinthesky.Farofftotheeastandwest,thebulwarksofthevalley,theCoastRangeandthefoothillsoftheSierrasstoodout,paleamethystagainstthedelicatepinkandwhitesheenofthehorizon.Thesunlightwasaveritableflood,crystal,limpid,sparkling,settingafeelingofgayetyintheair,stirringupaneffervescenceintheblood,atumultofexuberanceintheveins.

           Butonhiswaytothebarns,Annixterwasobligedtopassbytheopendoorofthedairy-house.HilmaTreewasinside,singingatherwork;hervoiceofavelvetyhuskiness,moreofthechestthanofthethroat,minglingwiththeliquiddashingofthemilkinthevatsandchurns,andtheclear,sonorousclinkingofthecansandpans.Annixterturnedintothedairy-house,pausingonthethreshold,lookingabouthim.Hilmastoodbathedfromheadtofootinthetorrentofsunlightthatpouredinuponherfromthethreewide-openwindows.Shewascharming,delicious,radiantofyouth,ofhealth,ofwell-being.Intohereyes,wideopen,brown,rimmedwiththeirfine,thinlineofintenseblacklashes,thesunsetadiamondflash;thesamegoldenlightglowedallaroundherthick,moisthair,lambent,beautiful,asheenofalmostmetalliclustre,andreflecteditselfuponherwetlips,movingwiththewordsofhersinging.Thewhitenessofherskinunderthecaressofthishale,vigorousmorninglightwasdazzling,pure,ofafinenessbeyondwords.