There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. ‘I am not a fool. 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. Hitherto you’ve seen only my easy, kindly side. “Oh good. Annabel a murderess! It was not possible. .
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