"You're so strong and young, such thick hair, such finely shaped hands
and such a voice." Sylvie's associates had been of a profession that
deals perpetually in personalities. "If I'd been blind a long time,
I suppose I could just run my hand over your face, and I'd know what
you look like. But I can't tell a thing." She felt for his face and
brushed it eagerly with her fingers, laughing at herself. "I just
know that you have thick eyelashes and are clean-shaven. Is Bella
your wife? And that big little boy your son?"
He started. "No, she's a faithful thing, the boy's nurse. And the
kid's my young brother--a great gawk of a boy for his age, a regular
bean-pole."
"It's so hard to tell anything about people if you can't see them.
I wouldn't have thought he was so big. Is he about fourteen or
fifteen? He speaks so low and gently; he might be any age."
"And a man's height--pretty near too big to lick, though he needs
it."
"And Bella, what's she like?"
"A dried-up mummy of a woman."
The kitchen door creaked. Hugh started and shot a look over his
shoulder. Bella stood on the kitchen threshold with an expressionless
face and lowered eyelids.
"Why did you jump?" asked Sylvie nervously.
Pages:
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39