She was not a Christian woman. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. What had she so nearly said? She had almost spoken a name—and quickly withdrawn it. 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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