Go upstairs now and take your things off, and after dinner you shall tell us all your story." And arm-in-arm the two girls left the room, "like twin cherries on a stalk." The resemblance between them was bewildering; every line of feature, every tone of colouring was the same.
"Let us stand together before this cheval glass," said Gwladys, "and have a good look at each other.

Oh, Valmai, my beloved sister, I feel as if I had known you all my life, and could never bear to part with you." And as they stood side by side before the glass, they were themselves astonished, puzzled, and amused at the exact likeness of one to the other.

The same broad forehead, in which, at the temples, the blue veins showed so plainly, the same depth of tenderness in the blue eyes, the same slender neck, and the same small hands; the only difference lay in the expression, for over Gwladys's upper lip and half-drooped eyelids hovered a shade of pride and haughtiness which was absent from Valmai's countenance.
"Oh, see," she said playfully, "there is a difference--that little pink mole on my arm.

Valmai, you haven't got it." "No," said Valmai, critically examining her wrist, with rather a dissatisfied look, "I haven't got that; but in everything else we are just alike.

How lovely you are, Gwladys." "And you, Valmai, how sweet." And again they embraced each other.
"I have no dress to change for dinner, dear.