There was a hawklike nose
dominating the unfeminine face. The shallows below the
cheekbones were deep, as though she had suffered the loss of her
back molars. The eyebrows were straggly; the eyes themselves of
a pale, watery blue; the mouth a thin line when her colorless
lips were closed; and her chin was as square and determined as
Uncle Henry's own.
As Nan approached she saw something else about this unlovely
woman. On her neck was a great, livid scar, of a hand's breadth,
and which looked like a scald, or burn. No attempt was made to
conceal this unsightly blemish.
Indeed, there was nothing about Aunt Kate Sherwood suggesting a
softening of her hard lines. Her plain, ugly print dress was cut
low at the throat, and had no collar or ruff to hide the scar.
Nan's gaze was fastened on that blemish before she was half way
to the door, and she could see nothing else at first.
The girl fought down a physical shudder when Aunt Kate's clawlike
hands seized her by both shoulders, and she stooped to kiss the
visitor.
"Welcome, dear Nannie," her sharp voice said, and Nan thought
that, with ease, one might have heard her in the middle of the
village.
But when Aunt Kate's lips touched the girl's forehead they were
Warm, and soft as velvet.
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