"I did—I did try to find him," she said. "Here." She took a small leather case containing a photograph out of her pocket and handed it to the judge. He looked at the photograph attentively.
"This is you and he?" he said.
"Yes."
The lady in the photograph was certainly Harmony. You could tell that by the eyes and the mouth. It was too big, as mouths go, but so very sweet and mobile as to make you forget that it was not the most perfectly sized and beautiful mouth extant. The eyes were too far apart, of an untroubled, starry kind; they sometimes made you look away from the mouth. But the present Harmony was only a pale, tired, thin copy of the Harmony in the photograph. It made Judge Tyler start to see her again as he remembered her.
"I've changed, haven't I?" said she.
Women say so many things that only women can answer.
"I might not know this man if I met him on the street," said Judge Tyler. "It
