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A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. Mark stayed away from Lucy, which was just as Sheila liked it. He looked at her guiltily. Here you are, young, sound, with a heart that will recover in no time, provided you keep liquor out of it. He turned, and beheld Winifred. 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. “I’m not going to college, John.
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