He might be less than forty, for his face was worn into hard lines, and he was pale.
No.

It could not be, she said to herself.

It is only a resemblance.
But as the gentleman turned and she saw his full face, Laura put out her hand and clutched Washington's arm to prevent herself from falling.
Washington, who was not minding anything, as usual, looked 'round in wonder.

Laura's eyes were blazing fire and hatred; he had never seen her look so before; and her face, was livid.
"Why, what is it, sis?
Your face is as white as paper." "It's he, it's he.

Come, come," and she dragged him away.
"It's who ?" asked Washington, when they had gained the carriage.
"It's nobody, it's nothing.