It was almost uncanny, the likeness between them.

It might have been her drowned sister lying there.

And they had never known one another.

Had this also been temperament again, keeping them apart?
Why did it imprison us each one as in a moving cell, so that we never could stretch out our arms to one another, except when at rare intervals Love or Death would unlock for a while the key?
Impossible that two beings should have been so alike in feature without being more or less alike in thought and feeling.

Whose fault had it been?
Surely her own; she was so hideously calculating.