"And I told them to put it out of sight. You see, Hubert didn't send it till after we'd left the house—just before he went to California. I'd given orders that it was to be locked up in an empty closet in my wardrobe room. Oh, Bob darling, I don't know what you're going to think of me."
"Oh, you're all right, mother. It wasn't you. I—I only wondered how you'd come by the thing at all."
She made an obvious effort at controlling emotion.
"Why, Bob, it was this way. After—after what Jennie told me that day I—I naturally thought a good deal about Hubert—and—and their relations to each other—"
"She talked about them, did she?"
"Well, you see, in a way she had to. She was let in for it, poor thing. I can't tell you everything without giving you the whole story—and it's her story, as I've said before. I've no right to betray her, and least of all to you."
"All right. Go on."
"So when I'd heard that Hubert had a new picture at the Kahler Gallery—and everyone was talking about it—and I knew from the things they said what—what sort of a picture it was—"
"Yes, yes; I understand."
"Well, then, I—I went and saw it; and to—to get it out of sight I bought it on the spot. I didn't want it to be still on exhibition when you came back; and I hoped that people would forget it. I should have burned it at once, only that Hubert delayed sending it, and—well, you see how it happened. But even so, Bob dear, you knew you were marrying a model—"