Then he came forward,
both hands outstretched. She let him have one of hers for an instant,
but drew it away again--with some difficulty.
"You must be surprised to find me here." Roberta strove for her usual
cool control. "Rosy and I came to see your grandfather. He sent us in
here to look at these portraits. Rosy has gone back to him with a
picture she thought looked like Gordon. I--was staying a minute to see
this; it is very beautiful."
He laughed happily. "You have explained it all away. I wish you had let
me go on thinking I was dreaming. To find you--_here_!" He smothered an
exultant breath and went on hastily:--"I'm glad you find my mother
beautiful. I never knew how beautiful she was till I brought her up here
and put her where I could look at her. Such a little, girlish mother for
such a strapping son! But she has the look--somehow she has the look!
Don't you think she has? I was a year old when that was painted--just in
time, for she died six months afterward. But she had had time to get the
look, hadn't she?"
"Indeed she had. I can imagine her holding her little son. Is there no
picture of her with you?"
"None at all that I can find.
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