"
He moved quickly. "Likenesses are an illusion," he said, "a
mere imagination of the brain!" His manner was short; his
annoyance seemingly out of all proportion to its cause.
Lillian looked at him afresh in slightly interested surprise.
"Yet not so very long ago, you yourself--" she began.
"Nonsense!" he broke in. "I've always denied likenesses.
Such things don't really exist. Likeness-seeing is purely an
individual matter--a preconception." He spoke fast; he was
uneasy under the cool scrutiny of her green eyes. And with a
sharp attempt at self-control and reassurance he altered his
voice. "After all, we're being very stupid!" he exclaimed.
"We're worrying over something that doesn't exist."
Lillian was still lazily interested. To her own belief, she
had seen Chilcote last on the night of her sister's reception.
Then she had been too preoccupied to notice either his manner
or his health, though superficially it had lingered in her
mind that he had seemed unusually reliant, unusually well on
that night.
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