” Anna looked at her steadily. Gerald watched her vanish into the darkness, unusually incensed. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. 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. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. ” Sir John acknowledged the introduction without cordiality.
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