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. But McClintock's mind was perceptive, whereas Spurlock's was only dully confused. They embarked upon an open and declared friendship. He had not thought to find a lady so ready of humour and willing to give him a hearing. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice. "I'll be their substitute. It’s a beautiful plant, but a tender one. ” She replied informally. Here I am.
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