I felt as though I had bandaged eyes. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. 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 lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. Good night. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. But it was under false names, so I dare say it ain’t valid. THAMES DARRELL.
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