"Yeah," she laughed, and added, "I been practicin' by myself so much he thinks I been cheatin' on him." She winked her lovely eye at me.
"Well, you should see this number," she said. "It begins with me wigglin' like this."
She began to swing about the room. I had to confess to myself that, standing there, her dark eyes flashing, her long, rather—uh—shapely legs, and—um—well, it was obvious that if anyone were better qualified to interpret love, I had never seen it. But as I observed her closely, she seemed truly agitated.
"Why, I even learned a couple of new languages, so I could sing a part of my song in each language—one from each planet."
"Er—I believe we can dispense with that."
"But that's just it, Doc. I gotta tell you about it. It's all sort of symbolic, see? A sort of United Planets number. The idea is that all of the planets are held together by love, real, solid love, the kind that grips you."
It was most apparent to me at that juncture that her—um—talents were of the—um—gripping variety.
I begged her, however, to come to the source of her difficulty.
"Well, the number's comin' along terrific. I got it down perfect, every movement, every swing and every sway. I feel I reached a new peak in my art, when—just a couple of days ago—it happens."