Softly she rose to her feet. 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. You ought to know that. Sheppard. Not the explosive vigour of the north-born, but that which would quietly meet physical hardships and bear them triumphantly.
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