” She stopped with an air of interrogation. "So, wanton, I have found you!" "Wanton! Why, you infernal liar!" cried Spurlock, striking at the arm. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. 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. Blackness was beginning to consume the cornfield.
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