"It is hard to say. Perhaps a thousand, perhaps two thousand dollars."
"What!" She wheeled upon the portrait. "Why, who is the woman?"
"Mrs. Joyce-Reeves."
The effect was as dramatic as Jean's unfilial fancy had hoped.
"The Mrs. Joyce-Reeves of Fifth Avenue and Newport?"
"And of Lenox, Aiken, and Ormond—yes."
Mrs. Fanshaw's attitude toward the portrait became reverential. Here was hallowed ground!
"Have you met her, too?" she asked finally, with the realization that even her child might share the sacerdotal mysteries.
"Yes."
"You have talked with her?"