” “Right!” he said, and hesitated, and then got up and went into the preparationroom. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. 192 Her skirt had ridden almost to her hips. “There’s the classes,” said Constance, the well-informed. The man, who was just able to move, pointed towards Giltspur-street. 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. And lunged once more. .
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