"It is a realistic age," he answered, smiling. "People no longer believe what they do not see. We are forced to adopt modern methods and modern costume to show that we exist."
"You do not look like the statue of Apollo," ventured Daphne.
"Did people ever dare tell the truth about the gods? Never! They made up a notion of what a divine nose should be and bestowed it upon all the gods impartially. So with the forehead, so with the hair. I assure you, Miss Willis, we are much more individual than Greek art would lead you to expect."
"Do you mind just telling me why you are keeping sheep now?"
"I will, if you will promise not to consider a question of mine impertinent."
"What is the question?"
"I only wished to know why an American young lady should bear a Greek name? It is a beautiful name, and one that is a favorite of mine as you may know."
"I didn't know," said Daphne. "It was given me by my father. He was born in America, but he had a Greek soul. He has always longed to live in Greece, but he has to go on preaching, preaching, for he is a rector, you know, in a little church in New York, that isn't very rich, though it is very old. All his life he has been hungry for the beauty and the greatness of the world over here."
"That accounts for your expression," observed Apollo.
"What expression?"