“James. James Laurence.”
“Laurence? I met a young lady of that name not long ago—a very beautiful young lady.”
“Was she in a store?”
“Yes.”
“Tall, with eyes that look like water in a shady place?”
“She had soft, pleasant eyes.”
“Did she tell you her other name? Was it Eva?”
“That was her name.”
“Well, then, you’ve seen one of the brightest, sweetest, darlingest girls that ever lived, sir; let me tell you that, if she is my sister.”
“Then the young lady is really and truly your sister?” said the man, and a strange tone of disappointment broke into his naturally sad voice.