A face came into my vision, the smirking visage of my ‘judge’, a man whom I had often seen in my shop, wearing different women on his arm every day. “Oh, nothing special.” He said in a tone low enough not to carry. “I just don’t like your face, and...” He looked out at the roaring mass of people. “It’s such a crowd pleaser, don’t lose your head now.” The man snickered and rose so I could see nothing but the soles of his feet and a wicker-basket beneath me.