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 shuddered, throwing her hands over her face. Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. His face was downcast. Spurlock began to watch for Ruth's coming in the morning; first, with negligent interest, then with positive eagerness. She breathed deeply, and he breathed sympathetically.
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