A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. 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. ‘That’s a loud one. He looked just like John Wayne in a cowboy movie, his eyes narrow and squinting, except his hair was long, unruly, and jet black. The longing to talk to someone! But in the end she had gone to her room without giving in to the craving. “One hardly knows—all the time. By the by, Mr. " "Thought so.
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