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. She despises one-piece swimsuits, she calls them ‘old hag bathing dresses’ no matter how low-cut they are. Jackson and Mr. “That’s not working so well for you, is it?” She looked at him sheepishly, bringing a Kleenex out of her pocket to wipe away the excess. Never be downhearted. “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. Wood.
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