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. Giles's round-house. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. It was a hoax, it was the only thing possible, until she heard Cathy say, “Let me hold those for you.
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