“Do you believe in the doctrine, belief, theory—whatever you like to call it, that every one of us in this world has his or her double somewhere or other?”
Gerard, scenting the approach of a confession bearing upon the supposed discovery he had made of Rachel in an odd disguise, hesitated what to reply. The old lady nodded.
“I think you do,” she said solemnly. “Well, I never did till lately, when an experience of my own made me begin to think there was something in it.”
“What experience was that?” asked Gerard, feeling that he was drawing near to a similar story to his own.
But Lady Jennings did not immediately answer. She raised the gold-rimmed double-eyeglass which she wore dangling in front of her from a long thin gold chain, and looked at a large portrait of Rachel, which stood, framed and draped, on a little table near her.
“A singular face! An unmistakable face!” said she, almost under her breath.
Gerard was alert and eager to hear more, but Lady Jennings suddenly turned the conversation to another matter—
“And have you had your first brief yet?” she asked.
“Yes, but not many of them,” answered Gerard, rather coolly, disappointed at not having heard more of what he wanted to hear.
“And do you ever go down to the old place?”