Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. Anna, in her strange striking way, was radiantly beautiful. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion. ’ ‘Oh, that tragic pair,’ uttered her ladyship in saddened tones. ’ ‘Eh? Why did you not say so, man?’ demanded Hilary crossly.
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