“Julian,” he said, and his voice had gone to pieces.

“She looks just like Evelyn.”

“She does,” I said, and I felt the tears come up in my own eyes as I said it, because it was true, and because I had seen it the moment I first looked into her face without knowing why it moved me so much.

There was Evelyn in the shape of her, in the set of her features, in something around the eyes.

“She has Evelyn’s smile,” I said.