"Her photograph," concluded Nevins, suavely.
"Where?"
"In Ponsonby's show-case, on Fifth Avenue, near Thirtieth Street."
"How do you know it is she?"
"Well, I'll be damned! Don't I know Mariana?"
"Is it like her?"
"It is a gem; but you know she always photographed well. She knew how to pose."
"Has she changed?"
"Fatter, a trifle; fairer, a trifle; better groomed, a great deal—older and graver, I fancy."
"Well, I never!" said Ardly, and he whistled a street song between half-closed lips.