Her eyes were wide, and a bit frightened.

Her fingers were twisting the corners of her handkerchief nervously.

She was looking to the right and to the left, and everywhere she saw--herself.
Sometimes it was her full face, sometimes her profile; sometimes there were only her eyes peeping from above a fan, or peering from out brown shadows of nothingness.

Once it was merely the back of her head showing the mass of waving hair with its high lights of burnished bronze.

Again it was still the back of her head with below it the bare, slender neck and the scarf-draped shoulders.