gutenberg. CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. 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. “Everything very nice, I am sure,” Miss Stanley murmured to Capes as he steered her to a place upon the little sofa before the fire. She slid the dress off, naked underneath. ‘But you said she was looking for proof. ‘It’s my belief she is a nun.
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