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. And not a worthy tome in sight. It is no problem. Some of the lunatics were rattling their chains; some shrieking; some singing; some beating with frantic violence against the doors. Gay," he added, turning to the poet. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully.
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