She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature. There is no future for me here. 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. “Heavens!” she exclaimed. To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. "Now, Mr.
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