"Did you not know we were twins?" she asked, clearly anxious to help him.
"I had heard ... but I did not expect...."
"To find the resemblance so striking? I have not seen my sister for years, but when we were younger strangers often mistook us. We were mutual replicas. I imagine from your surprise that the resemblance is still very marked."
"That is the feeblest way of putting it," he answered, still staring as if fascinated. "You are identical in every feature—eyes—hair—even the voice...."
"Perhaps you might find that we differ in disposition—in character——"
He interrupted bruskly, forcing himself to accept the incredible.
"Excuse me; but I can not imagine any one so perfect as Miss Blair."
The lady sighed. "She is on the stage."
"Good heavens, madam!" said Lionel with scornful candor. "Does the stage spell infamy to you? I thought that attitude was vieux jeu now."
"I may be old-fashioned," she said primly, "but I am under few illusions. Of course I would not even hint that my sister is likely to tread the downward path" ("Oh, lord!" he groaned in spirit)—"one of our family must have sufficient firmness of character to rise above even her environment. But we know the old proverb of pitch and defilement; can she honestly hope to retain her bloom unsullied?"