Then, at a top-floor window, leaning out, looking down, you see beauty itself; or in the corner of an omnibus; or squatted in a ditch--beauty glowing, suddenly expressive, withdrawn the moment after.
No one can count on it or seize it or have it wrapped in paper.

Nothing is to be won from the shops, and Heaven knows it would be better to sit at home than haunt the plate-glass windows in the hope of lifting the shining green, the glowing ruby, out of them alive.

Sea glass in a saucer loses its lustre no sooner than silks do.

Thus if you talk of a beautiful woman you mean only something flying fast which for a second uses the eyes, lips, or cheeks of Fanny Elmer, for example, to glow through.
She was not beautiful, as she sat stiffly; her underlip too prominent; her nose too large; her eyes too near together.

She was a thin girl, with brilliant cheeks and dark hair, sulky just now, or stiff with sitting.