Poor little one. You are NOT going to that ball!” Ann Veronica tried a less genial, more dignified note. "Stop a minute, my dear," cried Austin. He was a wonderful little creature with a perfect tiny face, mottled pink cheeks, and eyes brighter than May. He was the junior of both his sisters, co-educated and much broken in to feminine society. For a time she promenaded the room. 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. Promise me.
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