“My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. " "The very face," exclaimed Gay, advancing to look at it;—"with all the escapes written in it. “I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. Just as he completed this operation, the file broke. . ‘I have Joan to tell me how much I look like Mary. They were both dressed in every respect alike.
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