The Visitor held her thin hand out for Jael to take and then sat down. The silence within the hut was almost unbelievable; with a beating heart Jael waited for the Visitor to break it. Meanwhile, she stared almost rudely at her. How pretty she must have been once, long ago. A Failed Alpha, certainly, perhaps even a true Alpha. She wore her own face, as women could do without criticism after they were sixty, unless they wanted a replacement; she did not look as old as that, except for the redness round the eyelids of her bright but sunken eyes. They gave her the look of a kind little bird. Her soft fluffy brown hair was the youngest-looking part about her. Over her shoulders she wore an old black velvet cape, the top half covered with a brown fur which might have been sable-substitute. But the light was behind her and Jael could not see her very well. "My dear," she began, "the Sister tells me you have made an excellent recovery." Her voice was soft and very distinct; she must have studied elocution, Jael thought.
