In all these weeks she had not once knelt to pray. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. She had seen a man’s head steal out for a moment and draw the curtains a little closer. 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 prevent the leaves from blowing about, should a blow develop, he distributed paper weights.
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