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. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. “Your father is in the study and wishes to speak to you. You cannot depart hence. Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. It came to her like a dear thing rediscovered, that she loved Capes. She romanticized, imagining a life on the High Seas.
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