Warren’s Profession. “Never—but, by Jove, you had a narrow escape,” Ennison exclaimed. She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said. 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. My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter.
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