Once more Dorothy turned swiftly toward him but when she spoke her eyes and voice were serious. “Do you really mean to say you think you’re speaking to Janet Jordan? Because—”
“My dear—what are you trying to tell me?” He broke in impatiently. “I certainly ought to know the girl I’m going to marry!”
Dorothy nodded slowly. “I agree with you—you ought to—but then, you see, you don’t!”
The young man crushed his soft felt hat in his hands and took a step nearer to her. “Look here—what is the matter with you? I know you’ve been through a lot, but—” He broke off abruptly, a gleam of horror and suspicion in his honest eyes. “Janet! What have they done to you?”
Dorothy laid a firm hand on his arm. “Sh! Be quiet—listen to me.” Then she added gently—“I am not Janet Jordan, your fiancee.”
“You’re not—!”
“No. My name is Dorothy Dixon—and I’m Janet’s first cousin.”
The young man seemed flabbergasted for a moment. Then he stammered—“Wh-why, it’s astounding—the resemblance, I mean! You’re alike as—as two peas. If you were twins—”
“But you see,” she smiled, “our mothers, Janet’s and mine, were twins, and I guess that accounts for it. I’ve never seen Janet, but this is the third time, just recently, that I’ve been taken for her by her friends, Mr.—?”
“My name is Bright,” he supplied. “Howard Bright. Yes, now I can see a slight difference, Miss Dixon. You’re a bit taller and broader across the shoulders than she is. But it’s your personalities, more than anything else, that are altogether unlike. I hope you’ll forgive me, Miss Dixon, for making a nuisance of myself!”