Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. Its very calmness was frightful. For a long time he stared at the empty doorway. It reverberated in the silence. The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases. But Ruth was his woman, and he had sworn to God to defend her. The bump was coarse and didn’t feel right. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. "From a black mole under the child's right ear, shaped like a coffin, which is a bad sign; and a deep line just above the middle of the left thumb, meeting round about in the form of a noose, which is a worse," replied Mrs. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. "But be it as it may, he is now beyond the reach of earthly punishment.
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