Stephen nodded sagely, and his voice seemed to come from a long way
off:

"Yes, I remember it, my lord. It was a melancholy little street."




THE LOOKING GLASS

By J.D. BERESFORD

(From _The Cornhill Magazine_)

1921, 1922


This was the first communication that had come from her aunt in
Rachel's lifetime.

"I think your aunt has forgiven me, at last," her father said as he
passed the letter across the table.

Rachel looked first at the signature. It seemed strange to see her own
name there. It was as if her individuality, her very identity, was
impugned by the fact that there should be two Rachel Deanes. Moreover
there was a likeness between her aunt's autograph and her own, a
characteristic turn in the looping of the letters, a hint of the same
decisiveness and precision. If Rachel had been educated fifty years
earlier, she might have written her name in just that manner.