The man’s passion was infectious. ’ ‘As far as I know it, ma’am. Presently. It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. 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 woman isn’t much freer—in reality. Which were perfectly true, as Gerald was aware.
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