"She twirls herself, turns round, twirls once more, posing, smiling, laughing, beckoning airily, drifts off, only to turn back beckoning, offering, repulsing, coolly firm, and then turns away, so that you think, well, it’s hopeless, when she glances back lightly, sidelong, her eyes opening, pupils wide, and wider yet, and she’s laughing at you, at you alone, laughing gaily, and you freeze, astonished, your throat constricting, as she hovers lovely and out of reach, out of reach and lovely, smiling at you, her head inclined aside, her hair brushing one cheek, there she is and yet not, unbelievable and simply gorgeous, and your heart tightens as she stands there so lovely, and out of reach."