In all these weeks she had not once knelt to pray. From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter. Then she was turning, ignoring the muttered cursing and the rattling that immediately ensued at the door. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. 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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