He bowed over her hand, venturing to drop a kiss on it’s leathery surface. Before Jonathan followed he turned to face his assailants. 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. Several men and women were piled there like wood, dead, horribly gored. "He's about to cross the river. She had never dreamed of such decadence, never imagined that young people could be so happy and healthy.
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