’ ‘What, a common soldier?’ ‘He was not a common soldier. There were moments when she thought of turning upon this man and talking to him. 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. He must fight the thought continually, day in and day out. The comments on the makeover lessened but were replaced by long admiring glances by boys who had never before given her the time of day. “You cannot give me ultimatums.
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