Lady Sophy Browne, an ethereal-looking woman, with a consciously wan smile and a grey chiffon frock, that looked as if it would have had to be unpinned and unwound, rather than taken off, when bed-time came, put her elbows on the table and clasped her hands under her chin.
"Do you know Rodin's Portrait d'un Inconnu?" she asked Joyselle.
"No, madame."
"But you know Rodin?"
"I have met him."
Ecstatic was her smile.
"I knew it. And unconsciously you were his model for the Inconnu. But it is you, M. Joyselle! Do not deny it, for I know."
Joyselle took an olive.
"I do not deny it, Lady Sophy. But I know nothing of it. If you are right I am—much flattered."
Brigit was amused, for she saw that the Spectre, as her friends called the grey-draped peeress, had anticipated excitement and curiosity on Joyselle's part.