The big dark eyes which looked out straight at Thresk as he stood before them had, even in that likeness, something of aloofness and reserve.

And underneath, in a contrast which seemed to him startling, there was her name signed in the firm running hand in which she had written the few notes which passed between them during that month in Sussex.

Thresk looked back again at the photograph and then resumed his seat.
"Tell me about her, Mrs.Carruthers," he said.

"You hear from her often ?" "Oh no! Stella doesn't write many letters, and I don't know her very well." "But you have her photograph," said Thresk, "and signed by her." "Oh yes.

She stayed with me last Christmas, and I simply made her get her portrait taken.