Kidd, turn off the light to spare my blushes.

Blushing is the colour of virtue.

He was a dim secondary social success -- and all with people who had truly not an idea of him. It was all mere surface sound, this murmur of their welcome, this popping of their corks -- just as his gestures of response were the extravagant shadows, emphatic in proportion as they meant little, of some game of 'ombres chinoises' [French: "shadow play"].

Innocence is not accustomed to blush. [Fr., L'innocence a rougir n'est point accoutumee.]

Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.

Where now I have no one to blush with me, To cross their arms and hang their heads with mine, To mask their brows and hide their infamy; But I alone, alone must sit and pine, Seasoning the earth with show'rs of silver brine, Mingling my talk with tears, my grief with groans, Poor wasting monuments of lasting moans.