Anna merely glanced at the coarse, flushed features, and at once shook her head. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. Come. 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. Time after time he reminded her of how powerless she would be without him, how unkind the world was towards single women.
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