"Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. Everything, my dear, everything!. 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. Anna passed serenely out. I can't invent; the thing won't come.
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