A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. “We’ll go to a place where we can have a private room,” he said. 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. “I love you, Ann Veronica. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. The ruse succeeded almost beyond his expectation. This is clear over my head.
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