It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. They were horrible people. 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. ’ Both hands about the butt of her unwieldy pistol, Melusine glared at him.
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