The parlour was cluttered but cosy. 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. ’ Gerald frowned. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. “Ah!” said Ramage, impressively. Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows. The afternoon was her own; but from eight until midnight she sat beside the patient.
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