“What do you mean?” she asked, knowing perfectly well.
“Why, it might be your own photograph—the face, I mean—that’s as far as I can judge.”
“But the hair’s done differently,” said Sabina, laughing. She threw back her head, and the laughter bubbled in her round white throat.
“It’s rather a nice picture, don’t you think?” he asked. But she was looking at a curious ring he wore on the hand that covered the girl’s body, and only nodded.
“Ever seen anything like it before?”
“Oh, there’s plenty of those funny ones in the illustrated papers.”
“How would you like to have your picture taken that way?”
“Me? I’d never let anybody see it. Besides, I haven’t got a hat like that!”
“That’s easily remedied.”
Again a little silence, broken by Anna throwing up the slide.