Tipping the Velvet: A Novel

The man had looked like Walter; I had pleasured him, in some queer way, for Kitty’s sake;

view of her now, of course, was side-on and rather queer; but when she strode, as before, to the front of the stage it seemed to me her step was lighter

coins and canes and flowers, there was a private language, in which we held an endless, delicate exchange of which the crowd knew nothing. This was a language not of the tongue but of the body,

Indeed, I seemed to want her more and more, the further into boyishness I ventured.

the beards mislead you. For the oyster, you see, is what you might call a real queer fish - now a he, now a she, as quite takes its fancy. A regular morphodite, in fact!’

I could not help it: I had fallen in love with Kitty; now, becoming Kitty, I fell in love a little with myself.

There was a look on her face - it was not ambiguous at all now - a look of mingled shock, and nervousness, and embarrassment or shame.

was my rival, of sorts; but in some queer way it was almost easier

you marvelled to see your neighbours’ faces, and to know your own to be like theirs - all queerly lit by the glow of the footlights, and damp at the lip, and with a grin upon it, like that of a demon at some hellish revue.