I met her when we were both very young, as young as you are. The flowers and turf, a wild strawberry, a rare butterfly, and suchlike little intimate things had become more interesting than mountains. I don’t know why that should be so acutely humiliating. 17 up-train. She hastened past. They did not care— servant or master, it meant nothing. 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. Here would be a woman perfectly unrecognizable, strong, ruthless but just.
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