Soon the two came into the room, Evelyn dancing with the uncertain motion of a winged seed on a spring wind.

She was charming.

One round cheek was more deeply flushed than the other, and creased with the pillow.

Her yellow hair, fine and soft and full of electric life, tossed like a little crest.
She ran with both fat little hands spread palms outward, and pounced violently upon her father.

Harry rolled her about on his knee, and played with her as if she had been a kitten.