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‘He’d have been that happy if he’d known how you’re the spit of her, miss. Sir John hesitated, and then continued. She sat very still, and his eyes rested on that ornament for a moment, and then travelled slowly to her wrist and the soft lines of her forearm. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. Something about this woman rather reminds me of our hostess. So he made his dispositions and went off on some other fool’s errand.
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