"Smell them, mother—like spice! Don't they make you think of the carnation garden in San Francisco, where Uncle Dane used to carry us?"
"How long ago was that, Leighton?" asked Mr. Herriott, watching the woman's face.
"Oh, it was when I was a little chap and wore frocks."
"Were you born in San Francisco?"
"No. He was born in —— Territory."
"Mrs. Dane, can you tell me what became of the artist Belmont?"
"Why do you ask me that question?"
"In order to get an answer. He painted your face for his 'Aurora,' and the picture was photographed."
"Yes; I needed money, and Mr. Dane permitted him to come to our house for the sittings. That was my first and last experience as a model."
"I have met you before."