Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. One realized indeed then where the differences lay; the tender curves about Anna’s mouth transformed into hard sharp lines in Annabel’s, the eyes of one, truthful and frank, the other’s more beautiful but with less expression—windows lit with dazzling light, but through which one saw—nothing. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had been burning within her since the night of her visit to the “Unusual. Now let us forget it. This time, there was no doubt, she did not sleep.
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