She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. ’ ‘What, even less delightful than Gerald?’ enquired Lucilla, her eyes dancing. “I feel justified then,” he said, “in annexing his chair. Then for a time she forgot the Fadden affair altogether. 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. Lucy followed.
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