Anna leaned back with half closed eyes. "On Friday," he replied. There was, it might be said, a double illumination. 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. She sank upon her knees and unbuttoned his coat. “You’re splendid. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed.
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