What was the objection? She found it impossible to look her own diffidence in the face. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. Arrived at the secret door, she grasped the lever that opened it and placed the lantern on the floor. 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.
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