You're too vital, too electric.

I picture you with your back against the door and your arms spread out, hounding the poor wretch back into the prison-house." Max got up abruptly and moved to the window.

"You have a vivid imagination," he said.
She laughed, drawing her fingers idly across the strings of her mandolin.
"Quite nightmarishly so sometimes.

It's rather a drawback for some things.

How are you enjoying that book of mine?
Do you appreciate the Arabian Nights' flavour in modern literature ?" "It's a bit rank, isn't it ?" said Max.
She laughed up at him.