“You are my friend,” she said, “if any one is. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. “I wonder,” she said, “how much you care. ” “You are,” he answered unconsciously. "Have you sent off the note?" inquired Jack. " "It's light. what’s your name again?” He asked. 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.
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