Page:The heptalogia, or, The seven against sense - a cap with seven bells (IA heptalogiaorseve00swin).pdf/82

 She danced the heart out of my body—I can see in the glare of the lights, I can see her again as I saw her that evening, in spangles and tights. When I spoke to her first, her eye flashed so, I heard—as I fancied—the spark whiz From her eyelid—I said so next day to that jealous old fool of a Marquis. She reminded me, Bill, of a lovely volcano, whose entrails are avalava [sic]— Or (you know my penchant for original types) of the upas in Java. In the curve of her sensitive nose was a singular species of dimple, Where the flush was the mark of an angel's creased kiss—if it wasn't a pimple.