Lawrence, answering the unspoken words, said: "I was always thought like my mother, and the boy is the image of her." A sudden illumination flooded Broussard's mind with light.

He recalled the child's face, frank and handsome--a face that had always appealed to him so strongly, and so strangely.

Yes, it was the call of the blood, and instantly the mysterious attraction the boy had for him developed into the affection of a kinsman.
"If you could see my wife and talk with her," continued Lawrence, recovering himself a little.

"I can't urge her to leave me, but I think in common justice to her somebody ought to put the thing before her." "Certainly," replied Broussard.
He was turning things rapidly in his mind.

It would never do, after the Colonel's warning, to go to Lawrence's quarters, and he said so.
"It would look as if I had called for a farewell visit to your wife, when I haven't time to pay any calls except to the C.O.," said Broussard, after a moment.