” He contradicted himself by plunging into an exposition of motifs. A woman hard to read, who seemed to delight in keeping locked up behind that fascinating rigidity of feature the intense sensibility which had been revealed to him, her master, only in occasional and rare moments of enthusiasm. “Sir John is not at all that sort. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. Blue Ruin will do the job nicely. Pull yourself together, Annabel! I must have the truth.
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