” In the car, John was wound up. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. ” “You have it,” he declared confidently. "Stir a foot, at your peril. 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. " "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. Soup would help you feel better, soup and hot tea.
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