And her mother, looking unusually alert and hectic, wore cream and brown also, made up in a more complicated manner. For a time Ann Veronica’s attention was diverted by her aunt’s interest in the salted almonds. ” Mr. Still —there you are!” He paused. I wanted the magic of love. " Her island! How well he knew it, thought Spurlock, for all he lacked the name and whereabouts! Suddenly a new thought arose and buffeted him. ” The talk became more and more inconclusive and exhausting. 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. “We shall try again later.
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