The misty caravans of which she had dreamed were become actualities. “I wonder which of us enjoys that most,” said Capes—“does he, or do we?” “He seems to get a zest—” “He does it and forgets it. 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. We men are like children. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. ’ ‘Oh yes, or walked through the walls, I dare say.
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