No sooner had I crossed their threshold than my eyes were riveted to a young blueeyed beauty with waves of flaxen hair cascading down her white and blue ski jacket.
Morning came slowly with a pale yellow light. The train was slowing down as it came into the town of La Crosse where the three soldiers would get off the train. The station was empty because it was Sunday.
He took off the boy's cap and pushed back his thick flaxen curls, felt his slender arms and his small fingers; during which examination, Linton ceased crying, and lifted his great blue eyes to inspect the inspector.
Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green. To Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea.