The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash. ‘I doubt it. She was very pretty. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. ’ His colour deepened. Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen. 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. Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill. ” “Shirts?” “Shirts at one—and—something a dozen.
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