Yet she held her tongue. 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. ” Annabel looked down. “That’s what we narcs have to do. Lucy’s solos were exquisite in their precision and expression.
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