Diamond looked up from the engrossing scuff marks on the dance floor, to see the penetrating (and disconcertingly enough, glowing) eyes of the Phantom. But the euphonious, melodious, harmonic, dulcet, mellifluous, seductively rich, lyrical, languid, sweet, silken, soft, resonant, sonorous voice which asked, “Diamond, would you care to dance?” made her forget (or at least file away for future reference) any misgivings.
“Why Phantom,” she said, “I thought you’d never ask. I’d be delighted. What shall it be: waltz, tango, fox-trot, cha-cha, jitterbug, country line, twist—or none or all of the above?”
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All shall be rather fond of me and suffer from mild depression.
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