"Is it poison?" she asked. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled. Her eyebrows were lifted in expostulation. On a sudden, a change came over her countenance, which, up to this moment, had worn a smiling and satisfied expression. " "It is," replied Jack. ‘Come,’ she called. She made a slow tour of the front of the house without success, and then started back along the rooms behind, dragging open the drapes each time to get just enough light to recognise what was on the walls.
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