” He sidled toward her, but she recoiled from him, leaving him in possession of the hearth-rug. As he fell, he caught at the projecting masonry. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. 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.
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