I smiled from my place straight up at the searching lenses, and after an instant she dropped them and smiled as straight back at me.

Oh her smile--it was her old smile, her young smile, her very own smile made perfect! I instantly left my stall and hurried off for a nearer view of it; quite flushed, I remember, as I went with the annoyance of having happened to think of the idiotic way I had tried to paint her.

Poor Iffield with his sample of that error, and still poorer Dawling in particular with _his_! I hadn't touched her, I was professionally humiliated, and as the attendant in the lobby opened her box for me I felt that the very first thing I should have to say to her would be that she must absolutely sit to me again..