Her animation, brilliant colour, her laughter seemed to wing every word like an arrow.

She knew he shrank from what she was saying, in spite of his polite attention, and her fresh, curved cheek and parted lips took on a brighter tint.

Something was singing, seething in her veins.

She lifted her glass, set it down, and suddenly pushed it from her so violently that it fell with a crash.
A wave of tingling heat mounted to her face, receded, swept back again.
Confused, she straightened up in her chair, breathing fast.

_What_ was coming over her?
Again the wave surged back with a deafening rush; her senses struggled, the blood in her ran riot.