” “The only Montague Hill I ever knew,” Annabel said slowly, “is dead. His blood would be sweet with it. Give me the books. He was going to tell me something— and he shut up. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. " "That wouldn't answer my purpose," replied Jonathan, savagely.
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