The work seems composed to be symmetrically balanced towards an accompanying right-hand wing: Mary is positioned slightly to the right of centre, while her downward, almost coy glance is directed at a space beyond the edge of the panel, suggesting that she is looking at, or in the direction of, a kneeling donor in a right-hand wing.
It's a coy glance at the man who makes your morning Starbucks, a subtle flirtation with your flatmate's sister or just a general tendency to return to a bar where the clientele seem like your type of people.
She kept the baby covered even on the bus, where people gave her coy glances and someone tried to sing the song, but Ogechi stared ahead and did not respond to her call.
Although Ms. Morejón couldn't resist darting coy glances at us, both are truly lovely dancers who actually inhabited their characters, with Mr. Gounod particularly exciting in his smooth, springy jump and beautifully extended lines.
Chef Brian's coy glances at the camera in the midst of grilling macaroni and cheese filled meat patties coupled with his flair for silver bracelets, gives a sort of Guy Fieri feel to this whole infomercial. .
The Annas Hummingbird gives you a coy backward glance to assess if youve properly admired its flashy throat feathers, maybe having just performed its signature J-shaped courtship dive.
Among them are virgins, housewives and goddesses: they look out from the canvas with a coy sideways glance, a challenging stare and a wistful gaze.
This completes a process of diplomatic revolution as Karimov turns away from the west and back into the embrace of Russia, with coy sideways glances at China.
Ms. Henrye, with coy eyes, glances modestly at Tomas Mechacek, who plays the young Noam with a charismatic ease that too often slips into indulgent clowning.
Dozens of eight-inch figures elaborately costumed in gold-trimmed waistcoats, floral dirndls and other exotic garb and flashing coy, dimpled glances, mock surprise or drawn daggers were capering on the tables at Moss, the SoHo design shop and purveyor of avant-garde modernism.
But my favourite part is Vin's inevitable flirty head-to-head with his female counterpart, packed to baroque distraction with foreplayish clutch-popping, coy cross-traffic glances and patronising, pretty-fly-for-a-girl nods.
