From the second act onward everything was permitted her.

She might hold herself awkwardly; she might fail to sing some note in tune; she might forget her words--it mattered not: she had only to turn and laugh to raise shouts of applause.

When she gave her famous kick from the hip the stalls were fired, and a glow of passion rose upward, upward, from gallery to gallery, till it reached the gods.

It was a triumph, too, when she led the dance.

She was at home in that: hand on hip, she enthroned Venus in the gutter by the pavement side.