“I don’t suppose you’ll be able to do it much,” said Ann Veronica. Old saltwater was right. 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. . More than this, it would serve to mitigate her own abysmal loneliness to pool it temporarily with his.
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