Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion. Lucy had tried for years to find a way of not getting blood all over herself when she made a kill. As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp. After a while, he raised his eyes; and, if their glance could have been witnessed at the moment, it could not have been easily forgotten. "I am no murderer," replied Sheppard. Yet her hands dropped, and she sighed deeply. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head.
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