Nash was pointing to a large framed photograph, which stood upon a centre table.
"It's Miss Lindsay; it's his daughter."
"So it is; and a fine photograph too; and a good likeness."
"She--she was with him even when he was here."
There was an odd catch in his voice; Mr. Morgan was as unmoved as ever.
"You mean her effigy was."
"And--and look at that portrait over the mantel."
"Rather a fine bit of painting; quite decent; good colour; clever drawing; face seems alive."
"Can't you see who it is? It's his wife."
"Never saw the lady; but I shouldn't be surprised; there's no mistaking the likeness to the girl. So while he was living a double life he was living it with his wife and child; queer thing human nature."