Thereafter, all cognizance of her evaporated: the curious little outsider was permitted no further existence worth the struggle.

Nevertheless, she flashed in the corner of his eye too often.

He was aware of her dancing demurely, and of her viciously flirtatious habit of never looking up at her partner, but keeping her eyes concealed beneath downcast lashes; and he had over-sufficient consciousness of her between the dances, though it was not possible to see her at these times, even if he had cared to look frankly in her direction--she was invisible in a thicket of young dresscoats.

The black thicket moved as she moved and her location was hatefully apparent, even if he had not heard her voice laughing from the thicket.

It was annoying how her voice, though never loud, pursued him.
No matter how vociferous were other voices, all about, he seemed unable to prevent himself from constantly recognizing hers.