"She is your sister, Natalie," he asserted soberly, "Your twin sister."
Her unbelieving eyes swept to his face.
"My sister; my twin sister? But I had none."
"Yes, but you did," he insisted gently. "You never knew it, but Percival Coolidge did. This was his devilish scheme, plotted years ago when you were born. Now here is the end of it--the girl is your sister. There is no doubt of that."
"No doubt, you say! My sister!" Her head lifted, and there was a flame of colour in her cheeks. "My sister!" she repeated, as though she would thus make it seem more true. "Then I will go to her, Matthew West."
She loosened the clasp of her fingers and walked forward, unseeing her surroundings, her eyes misted with tears. Straight across the room she went, her hands outstretched to where the other shrank back from her in embarrassment--between them still the gulf which love must bridge.