Her amber-tinted arms, pretty and delicate, emerged, bare up to the shoulders, from her wide sleeves.
"What can those mice on the roof have done to him ?" thought Chrysantheme.

Of course she could not understand.

In a coaxing manner, like a playful kitten, she glanced at me with her half-closed eyes, inquiring why I did not come back to sleep--and I returned to my place by her side..