" "How?" exclaimed the other. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. But I was portentous, I can assure you. 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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