Her bejewelled hands lay sprawling in her amber satin lap.

Her tags and ear-rings twinkled, and her big eyes rolled about.

She was doing nothing with perfect contentment, and thinking herself charming.

Anything so becoming as the satin the sisters had never seen.
"Dammy," George said to a confidential friend, "she looked like a China doll, which has nothing to do all day but to grin and wag its head.

By Jove, Will, it was all I I could do to prevent myself from throwing the sofa-cushion at her." He restrained that exhibition of sentiment, however.
The sisters began to play the Battle of Prague.