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. " "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. He might spend the rest of his days at McClintock's in perfect security.
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