Jonah pulled it out of the corner into the light, and the child, pacified by the sight of a face, stopped crying.
Fearful of observation, he looked round, and then stared intently at the baby.

It was a meeting of strangers, for Mrs Yabsley, aware of his aversion from the child, had kept it out of the way.

It was the first baby that he had seen at close quarters, for he had never lived in a house with one.

And he looked at this with the curiosity with which one looks at a foreigner--surprised that he, too, is a man.
The child blinked feebly under the light of the candle, which Jonah was holding near.

Its fingers moved with a mechanical, crab-like motion.
With an odd sensation Jonah remembered that this was his child--flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone--and, with a swift instinct, he searched its face for a sign of paternity.
The child's bulging forehead bore no likeness to Jonah's which sloped sharply from the eyebrows, and the nose was a mere dab of flesh; but its eyes were grey, like his own.