white-hot

There were rumors of shrieks and flashes emanating from the well, and reports of a figure in white.

And she would be wearing some of the jewels with the white dress—just a few, not many, of course.

In the drawing-room things went on much as they always do in country drawing-rooms in the hot weather.

None other would dare to show herself unveiled to a stranger, and a white man at that.

One would not have wanted her white neck a mite less full or her beautiful arms more slender.

“You appear to feel it so,” rejoined Mr. Pickwick, smiling at the clerk, who was literally red-hot.