. ” “That is so,” Anna admitted. “I will have your true reason. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. . On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. ’ Lucilla eyed him with one of those particularly feminine looks it was difficult for a mere male to interpret. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. Celeste introduced him to me—oh, how Celeste hated me! She must have known. For the past four weeks mirrors had been her delight, a new toy.
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