Quotation from: The Little Lady of the Big House

Written by: Jack London


And still he did not tear himself away. He stood there beside her,
looking down on her brown crown of hair glinting gold and bronze and
bewitchingly curling into tendrils above her ears, singing a song that
was fire to him--that must be fire to her, she being what she was and
feeling what she had already, in flashes, half-unwittingly, hinted to
him.


She is a witch, and her voice is not the least of her witchery, he
thought, as _her_ voice, so richly a woman's voice, so
essentially her voice in contradistinction to all women's voices in
the world, sang and throbbed in his ear. And he knew, beyond shade of
doubt, that she felt some touch of this madness that afflicted him;
that she sensed, as he sensed, that the man and the woman were met.

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