Her fingers clutched at her breast.
"Ernest—! What're you doing?"
"Can you see anything wrong here, Jenny?"
He was looking up at the portrait.
"Wrong?" She said it beneath her breath. "Wrong—"
He reached up a hand. He drew his fingers across the canvas.
"By Jove!" His voice was excited. "So it is. Thought I wasn't crazy. When could it have happened, eh? Ever notice this, Jenny?"
She could not take her eyes from his hand that was going over and over the canvas along the arm of the painted figure.
"Can't you see it, Jenny?"
"I—I can't see anything."