"Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, in a tone of the bitterest anguish. I want to shout! I want to sing! I am glad! I am glad to be alive because you are alive! I am glad to be a woman because you are a man! I am glad! I am glad! I am glad! I thank God for life and you. Rich folks, once. Nobody can trust you. Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance. ’ The shift threw Melusine’s attention off the errant major for the moment. But for me it doesn’t matter. 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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