“What about her? Poor lady! she might well be forgotten,” he said.
“So soon? I suppose you knew her?”
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
“Nice girl?”
The agent bent over some papers. He seemed to be unable to bear Harcourt’s steady glance.
“She was exceedingly good-looking,” he answered; “tall, elegant figure, head well poised, kind of a face you see in a Romney, high forehead, large eyes, small nose and mouth—sort of artist type.”
“Wore a lot of lace about the throat?”
“What? You know that?”
“Oh, don’t be startled,” said Harcourt. “There is her head in chalks you know, over the mantelpiece—”