The sky grew momentarily more brilliant, the sun sank lower, and at last the light came almost level, painting the flat meadows as with a brush dropping emeralds, and throwing from each tiny inequality, and each blade of grass, a separate shade of its own.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1887 | 2025-02-28 20:42:09 | 109.27 | 99.2% |
| 1818 | 2025-02-10 01:40:27 | 110.28 | 97.2% |