“I missed the hour of your release,” he said, “but I was at the Vindicator Restaurant. Lucy had been ignoring her, not purposefully, but noticeably. It seemed incredible that she and her aunt were, indeed, creatures of the same blood, only by a birth or so different beings, and part of that same broad interlacing stream of human life that has invented the fauns and nymphs, Astarte, Aphrodite, Freya, and all the twining beauty of the gods. He swore when I tried to get it out with the ladle, and told me what it said. By degrees, his fears vanished, and hearing nothing, he grew calmer. She met him by the dugout after the game. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. She turned her cheek to the cold sill; and by and by the sill grew warm and wet with tears.
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