"That's just it.

A nice enough little thing! Nothing in the world to be said against her.

While Daphne--Miss Tepping, I mean--" His silence was ecstatic.
I examined the photograph still more closely.

It displayed a lady of twenty or thereabouts, with a weak face, small, vacant features, a feeble chin, a good-humoured, simple mouth, and a wealth of golden hair that seemed to strike a keynote.
"In the theatrical profession ?" I inquired at last, looking up.
He hesitated.

"Well, not exactly," he answered.
I pursed my lips and blew a ring.