"Rather heavy for a girl." "It is a trifle severe," he agreed, "but I dare say it was different when she was here.

Her things are all packed away in the attic." He picked up a candle and held it so that it lighted the face of a portrait over the mantle.

"That's Nan--painted when she was eighteen." "Yes," I nodded.

"I recognized her the moment I saw it.

She was like that when I knew her." "It used to hang down stairs but after her marriage my father had it brought up here.