She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. But escape to where? She thought of the ships that sailed from the peninsulas to hot deserts where spices were traded. The little streaks upon the germinating area of an egg, the nervous movements of an impatient horse, the trick of a calculating boy, the senses of a fish, the fungus at the root of a garden flower, and the slime upon a sea-wet rock—ten thousand such things bear their witness and are illuminated. CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. .
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