Her eyes met Bonbright's eyes and she grinned. No other word can
describe it. It was not an impertinent grin, nor a familiar grin, nor
a COMMON grin. It was spontaneous, unstudied--it lay at the opposite
end of the scale from Bonbright Foote VI's smile. Somehow the flash
of it COMFORTED Bonbright. His sensations responded to it. It was a
grin that radiated with well wishes for all the world. Bonbright
smiled back, awkwardly, and bobbed his head as she stepped aside for
him to pass.

"What a grin!" he said, presently.

"Oh," said Rangar. "Yes--to be sure. The Girl with the Grin--that's
what they call her in the office. She's always doing it. Your father
hasn't noticed. I hope he doesn't, for I'm sure he wouldn't like it."

"As if," said Bonbright to himself, "she were happy--and wanted
everybody else to be."

"I'm sure I don't know," said Rangar. "She's competent."

They passed outside and through a covered passageway into the older
of the shops. Bonbright was not thinking about the shops, but about
the girl. She was the only thing he had encountered that momentous
morning that had interested him, the only thing upon which Bonbright
Foote, Incorporated, had not set the stamp of its repressing
personality.

He tried to visualize her and her smile that he might experience
again that sensation of relief, of lightened spirit. In a measure he
was able to do so. Her mouth was large, he saw--no small mouth could