Explore "The Supreme Artist" by Daphne du Maurier on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
He came away from the stage after the final curtain, and went along to his dressing-room humming a tune to himself, thinking of nothing. The girl followed close behind, patting the lock of hair that had fallen over her face.
"You smudged your eye black when you cried this afternoon," she told him, "it came off in streaks down the side of my neck -- look how filthy it is. I suppose you must cry?"