The executioner shook his head. “You must play for us again sometime. 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. He could not make good his hold. “Flesh and flowers are all alike to me.
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