He had been baptized there. He could not promise that she would ever appear again in that house. She had money of her own—much more than I have—and there was no need to squabble about that. Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness. Have you been away from Morningside Park?” “I’m not interrupting you?” “You are. ‘Shocked you, have I? We weren’t mealy-mouthed in my day, my boy. —Though if my name should become as famous as theirs, it wouldn't much matter. . 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.
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