The mouth, whose every curve I had studied in the old days of perfect
affection, drawn into a revolting grin and dripping with unwholesome
weeds brought down from the shallows. All strange, yet all familiar--my
sister--Georgian--dead--stark--but recognizable. Don't ask me if I saw
it. I always see it; it is before me now, the forehead--the chin--the
eyes--"
Ransom sprang to his feet, Harper also.
The girl in the doorway had gone white as death, and with outstretched
arms and frantic, haggard eyes was striving to ward off the frightful
vision conjured up by her brother's words. The movement made by the
two men recalled her in an instant to herself, and she drew back--the
hesitating, appealing, anxious-eyed girl whom they all knew. But it
was too late. Hazen had seen as well as the others, and leaping in
frenzy from his chair stood confronting her--a dominant and accusing
figure--between the quietly triumphant lawyer and the crushed, almost
unconscious Ransom.
CHAPTER XXVII
SHE SPEAKS
Hazen's face was frightful to see; the more so that physical weakness
contended with the outsweep of passion, so great and overwhelming in its
power and destructive force that to the two onlookers it seemed to spring
from deeper sources than ordinary life and death, and have its birth, as
well as its culmination, in the unknown and all that is most terrible
in the human mind and human experience.
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