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She came in now with an air of reserved solicitude. “No,” she answered. . . But all of that was forgotten. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. ‘And how is it that you have acquired this garb of a religieuse?’ he asked as she fitted the veil over her head. Just as Hogarth got to the door, the turnkey stopped him. “Had the pleasure of dining with you at the ‘Ambassador’s’ one night, before the show, you know—last September I think it was. White told me where to find you. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous.

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