‘But you do not understand, mon ami. “I must explain to her. “I think as I feel in a good humour it must be the latter. 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. Probably some woman on the loose; they were as thick as flies over here—dizzy blondes. Lucy ate without passion. ’ She turned her head, eyes blazing. I am your husband, though as yet your hand has scarcely lain in mine.
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