“I think,” he said, “that I would fetch any one whom he has asked to see. Yet you can look Cheveney in the face and declare that you do not know him. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. 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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