He looked at her with a certain curiosity. “Who are you?” She asked innocently. I spent many happy days there. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her. It creaked slightly. She looked up quickly. I have been used to living in apartments in Paris, but I suppose the system is different here. We are very poor, but manage to squeeze a little happiness out of each day. There was a case, or something, some years ago. 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’s not much comfort.
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