"Why—I went to see her once."
"You went to see her? When?"
"Then you did know her!"
Mr. Payson spoke cautiously, watching his daughter. "I have heard about her, yes, but I never knew you had been there. How in the world did that happen? It must have been a long time ago." He stared as if he could scarcely believe her assertion.
"Mother took me there once or twice. It's almost the first thing I remember."
"She did? She never told me! It's strange you have never mentioned it before."
"Perhaps I oughtn't to mention it now. I thought, somehow, that she wouldn't want me to tell you about it."
His tone now was disturbed, anxious, pitched in a higher key.
"Why shouldn't you speak of it? What difference could it possibly make? I remember that woman, yes. She was not old, though. Do you recall her well? You were very young then."
"I can almost see her now. She had white hair and black eyebrows, with a vertical line between them; she was pale, but with bright red lips. She wore a strange red gown. I think she must have been very beautiful at one time. Who was she, father?" Clytie sent a calm, level glance at him.