She laughed. ‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. 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. "Come out!" roared Quilt, looking into the aperture. Practically. Clean water. Whenever they stepped from the chairs, he stepped down.
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