text_original: Miss Yane drew the lumbering little table to the open window, and sat down before it, with her candle close to her elbow, and the tattered book spread out before her. No breath of air flickered the flame of her candle, or ruffled the golden hair swept back from her brow.
text_transcription: MISS VANE DREW THE LUMBERING LITTLE TABLE TO THE OPEN WINDOW AND SAT DOWN BEFORE IT WITH HER CANDLE CLOSE TO HER ELBOW AND THE TATTERED BOOK SPREAD OUT BEFORE HER NO BREATH OF AIR FLICKERED THE FLAME OF HER CANDLE OR RUFFLED THE GOLDEN HAIR SWEPT BACK FROM HER BROW
phonemes: mˈɪs jˈeɪn dɹˈuː ðə lˈʌmbɚɹɪŋ lˈɪɾəl tˈeɪbəl tə ðɪ ˈoʊpən wˈɪndoʊ, ænd sˈæt dˌaʊn bᵻfˈɔːɹ ɪt, wɪð hɜː kˈændəl klˈoʊs tə hɜːɹ ˈɛlboʊ, ænd ðə tˈæɾɚd bˈʊk spɹˈɛd ˈaʊt bᵻfˈɔːɹ hɜː. nˈoʊ bɹˈɛθ ʌv ˈɛɹ flˈɪkɚd ðə flˈeɪm ʌv hɜː kˈændəl, ɔːɹ ɹˈʌfəld ðə ɡˈoʊldən hˈɛɹ swˈɛpt bˈæk fɹʌm hɜː bɹˈaʊ.