She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. On his way he made a slight divergence from the direct route and paused for a moment outside the flat where Anna was now living. She thought of all sorts of odd and desperate expedients, and with passionate petulance rejected them all. 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. The Disguise 261 VI.
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