It seemed to them they could never have been really alive before, but only dimly anticipating existence. 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. The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly. She stopped eating.
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