” He paused, with his eyes studying her gravely. 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. Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night. The general did what he might to hush it up, and paid handsomely to manage it, I daresay. “What year was 221 that, about 1350?” He asked in wonderment. My father was Colonel Pellissier. Your aunt liked the pheasant.
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