One might be vivacious, audacious, brilliant, at an Indian trot; but impassioned--never! The pace increased; they were actually hurrying.

More than that, Maruja had struck into a little trot; her lithe body swaying from side to side, her little feet straight as an arrow before her; accompanying herself with a quaint musical chant, which she obligingly explained had been taught her as a child by Pereo.

They stopped only at the hedge, where she had that morning encountered the tramp.
There is little doubt that the rest of the party was disconcerted: Amita, whose figure was not adapted to this Camilla-like exercise; Raymond, who was annoyed at the poor girl's discomfiture; and Garnier, who had lost a golden opportunity, with the faint suspicion of having looked ridiculous.

Only Maruja's eyes, or rather the eyes of her lamented father, seemed to enjoy it.
"You are too effeminate," she said, leaning against the fence, and shading her eyes with her fan, as she glanced around in the staring moonlight.

"Civilization has taken away your legs.