“What is going on between you two?” Lucy asked. ’. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. ’ ‘I do not marry a man who makes me a threat like this,’ she flashed. 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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