Her uncovered mouth and chin suggested refined prettiness.
They filed past my table; the Night noticed perhaps my fixed gaze and throwing her body forward out of the wriggling chain shot out at me a slender tongue like a pink dart.

I was not prepared for this, not even to the extent of an appreciative "_Tres foli_," before she wriggled and hopped away.

But having been thus distinguished I could do no less than follow her with my eyes to the door where the chain of hands being broken all the masks were trying to get out at once.

Two gentlemen coming in out of the street stood arrested in the crush.

The Night (it must have been her idiosyncrasy) put her tongue out at them, too.