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The Were-Wolf by Clemence Housman
page 17 of 62 (27%)
beautiful. The awful truth flashed upon him: he knew what she was.

Only a few were startled by the rattle of the latch as he entered.
The room was filled with bustle and movement, for it was the
supper hour, when all tools were laid aside, and trestles and
tables shifted. Christian had no knowledge of what he said and
did; he moved and spoke mechanically, half thinking that soon he
must wake from this horrible dream. Sweyn and his mother supposed
him to be cold and dead-tired, and spared all unnecessary
questions. And he found himself seated beside the hearth, opposite
that dreadful Thing that looked like a beautiful girl; watching
her every movement, curdling with horror to see her fondle the
child Rol.

Sweyn stood near them both, intent upon White Fell also; but how
differently! She seemed unconscious of the gaze of both--neither
aware of the chill dread in the eyes of Christian, nor of Sweyn's
warm admiration.

These two brothers, who were twins, contrasted greatly, despite
their striking likeness. They were alike in regular profile, fair
brown hair, and deep blue eyes; but Sweyn's features were perfect
as a young god's, while Christian's showed faulty details. Thus,
the line of his mouth was set too straight, the eyes shelved too
deeply back, and the contour of the face flowed in less generous
curves than Sweyn's. Their height was the same, but Christian was
too slender for perfect proportion, while Sweyn's well-knit frame,
broad shoulders, and muscular arms, made him pre-eminent for manly
beauty as well as for strength. As a hunter Sweyn was without
rival; as a fisher without rival. All the countryside acknowledged
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