” “Sure, anything you want. She was weeping now. Neither your aunt nor I have any other thought but what is best for you. ” Michelle said, tossing her glossy ponytail defiantly. 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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