Out of the Past — page 167: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

164 Out of the Past. Robert went forward mechanically. He had seen that face in the mirror not a quarter of an hour ago, But this was an older face, a happier one than his own. Miss Winthrop hurried to them impulsively. “Forgive us, Mr. Dinsmore. We are very rude—but we will explain later. You seem to come terribly close to our lives. Have you ever known your father ?” “No, madame.” “And your mother?” exclaimed Mr. Winthrop, quickly. “My mother died at my birth. I bear her name— Dinsmore.”’ “Amy Dinsmore,” corrected Mr. Winthrop. There was a pause, during which the three looked keen- ly at one another in a sort of arrested animation. Robert drew from the little finger of his right hand two rings and handed them to Mr. Winthrop. He examined them aside, tremulously, and returned them with a face which, in that moment, had undergone a change. “Those rings are mine, my son. They were your moth- er’s.” Robert winced. “Her engagement and her wed- ding rings.” Then his voice broke from its excited sup- pression. “Do you hear?” he cried. “He belongs to us, Dorothy—he is ours—all ours—this splendid fellow— Dinsmore—the great Dinsmore! My son!” ECORNICOOOKS»€©