I wonder. 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. Shari was snoring, the pill having worked its magic. Assessing him as harmless, she had remained friendly, albeit aloof. In the circles into which he had been born, the passing on of land was of vital importance. Probably she mistook you; probably she thought you cared. .
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