"I can see myself in your eyes," she said.
"How do you look?" he said.
Her eyes wrinkled slightly, and a faint smile came on her lips. He kissed her again, daring to wonder.
No Place so Sacred from such Fops is barr'd,
Nor is Paul's Church more safe than Paul's Church-yard:
Nay, fly to Altars; there they'll talk you dead;
For Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread.
[1711 Pope Essay on Criticism l. 625]
