Luckily, Sir James was so much engrossed by his own task, that both the remark and gesture escaped him. Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. On gaining a stack of chimneys at the back of the house, he came to a pause, and again unmasked his lantern. It came with an extreme effect of re-discovery, a remarkable novelty. 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. Over the gateway towards Snow Hill, were two strong wards, called the Castle and the Red Room. He was tall, nearly six feet, and from his stature it was clear that he spent some spare time working on his physique. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable.
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