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. To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving parasite—something quite insignificant. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him. ‘Like a vision she were. I do not love you.
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