“I see you don’t believe it is only a resemblance,” she said. “Then pray what do you think about it? At least I know. You must believe that I pick pockets for a livelihood.”
“Miss Davison!”
“Well, what other explanation is possible?”
He sat back again, pained and uneasy.
“I wish,” he burst out suddenly, “that you would let me see you and this girl—side by side.”
She smiled contemptuously.
“I see you don’t believe what I’ve told you,” she said.
“Frankly, I can’t.”
“You can’t believe that a face seen for a few moments—in a crowd—in the darkness—surmounted by an old tawdry hat with a bedraggled feather—was any other than mine?”
Gerard replied stoutly—