Mark stayed away from Lucy, which was just as Sheila liked it. Lucy changed into her Goodwill jeans and sweatshirt, plastering her hair down with an elastic band and securing it under a tight hood. 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. “I’ve been to hear you lots of times. She tucked her stick under her arm and re-read Manning’s letter. I might have told you the truth. She looked about, watching a massive green storm cloud building in the west. It was Martin, she could hear his heart beat. But a biddable girl.
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