mona lisa smile

mona lisa smile
'Good-morrow, Mrs. Poole!' said Mr. Rochester. 'How are you? and
how is your charge to-day?'
'We're tolerable, sir, I thank you,' replied Grace, lifting the
boiling mess carefully on to the hob: 'rather snappish, but not
'rageous.'
A fierce cry seemed to give the lie to her favourable report: the
clothed hyena rose up, and stood tall on its hind-feet.
'Ah! sir, she sees you!' exclaimed Grace: 'you'd better not stay.'
'Only a few moments, Grace: you must allow me a few moments.'
'Take care then, sir!- for God's sake, take care!'
The maniac bellowed: she parted her shaggy locks from her visage,
mona lisa smile
and gazed wildly at her visitors. I recognised well that purple face,-
those bloated features. Mrs. Poole advanced.
'Keep out of the way,' said Mr. Rochester, thrusting her aside:
'she has no knife now, I suppose, and I'm on my guard!'
'One never knows what she has, sir: she is so cunning: it is not in
mortal discretion to fathom her craft.'
'We had better leave her,' whispered Mason.
'Go to the devil!' was his brother-in-law's recommendation.
mona lisa smile