A first glance showed me that it represented the portraits of two persons.
One of the persons I recognized as my husband.
The other person was a woman.
Her face was entirely unknown to me.

She was not young.

The picture represented her seated on a chair, with my husband standing behind, and bending over her, holding one of her hands in his.

The woman's face was hard-featured and ugly, with the marking lines of strong passions and resolute self-will plainly written on it.

Still, ugly as she was, I felt a pang of jealousy as I noticed the familiarly affectionate action by which the artist (with the permission of his sitters, of course) had connected the two figures in a group.