” “There was a time when girls didn’t get these extravagant ideas. I'll send you word when I catch him. She opened and read it at once. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. Have you anything to ask me?” Ann Veronica readjusted her mind hastily. 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. Like carpenter, like chips.
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