There are way-stations—even terminals. 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. Assessing him as harmless, she had remained friendly, albeit aloof. Petite build, like herself. " "En-shad-ay. Or else—Else it will be impossible that I can be his friend. She is no longer mine; she is yours.
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