He was the social order; he was law and wisdom. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. 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. They don’t know who did it, actually.
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