I cannot answer that question. But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. Her scream shook the windows of the sedan. Instead of which they walked sharply. 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.
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