A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. A queer nut. 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. "Where are you going?" cried Thames, who, though wholly disencumbered, was scarcely able to keep up with him. As it happens sometimes, the idea stepped down from the dream into the reality; and he saw it more clearly now than he had seen it in the dream.
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