Bogart’s eyes open, his mouth too, face softening, as if finally prepared to address her beauty, though perhaps what he’s really seeing is the nebulous woman now made of smoke between them, sharp nose, hand on her chin, gazing at Gloria herself.
Bogart’s eyes open, his mouth too, face softening, as if finally prepared to address her beauty, though perhaps what he’s really seeing is the nebulous woman now made of smoke between them, sharp nose, hand on her chin, gazing at Gloria herself.