His gaze remained steady on the old dame’s face, as he thought about it. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. ’ ‘I shall stop him,’ declared the old lady furiously. 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. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself.
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