"What's the use of wasting a shot?" rejoined Jonathan, savagely. Gerald noted the lady’s eyes brighten as she caught sight of him making his way through the throng towards her. They seem to spend their time yawning and inspecting their neighbour’s dresses through those hateful glasses. 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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