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. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. "Nothing—nothing," she answered, bursting into tears. ’ He slid slowly down and collapsed to the stone floor, fainting dead away.
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