Now it had steadied itself in the intensity of its speed; the little humming-top was sleeping.

Poppy, as she span, seemed to be standing, her feet rooted, her body swaying delicately from the hips, like a flower rocked by the wind, the light of her flickering flamewise.

There was a stir, a wave, as if the heart of the house had heaved.

Pit and gallery breathed hard.

Rickman leaned forward with clouded eyes and troubled forehead, while the young shop-men--the other young shop-men--thrilled with familiar and delicious emotion.