The woman's voice, vibrating and tragic, startled him. It was as if she were speaking to herself, as if something were being wrung from her in spite of her efforts to keep it back. "The likeness is extraordinary!"
Taking no notice of this, the man began to question him, "Where were you born?"
"In the Bronx."
He made a note of this answer in a little notebook. "And when?"
"In 1897."
"What date?"
It was the crucial question, but since he meant to tell everything he knew, Tom had no choice but to be exact.
"I'm not very sure of the date, because my mother changed it at three different times. At first my birthday used to be on the fifth of March; but afterward she said that that had been the birthday of a little half-sister of mine who died before I was born."
"What was her name?"