” Annabel shook her head. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. When I'm alone I don't mind. It was in her eyes—the big thing that comes but once. Creative work appeals to me wonderfully. ’ ‘What are you about now, child?’ demanded Martha apprehensively. 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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