She was leaning forward on the rail of the box, her chin in her hand, her eyes looking steadily ahead, enthralled by the music.

Suddenly she turned and looked squarely into his eyes, as if impelled by the magnetism they unconsciously employed.

A little flush mounted to her brow as she quickly resumed her former attitude.

Chase cursed himself for a brainless lout.
The number came to an end and the crowd arose to cheer the bowing, smiling director.

Chase cheered and shouted "bravo," too, because _she_ was applauding as eagerly as the others.