” John introduced her to couple after couple, a dizzying array of new people that she could not catalogue in her memory quickly enough. 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. For a moment her heart seemed to stop beating. When she spoke, her lips twitched. And as he walked by her side they began a wrangle that was none the less pleasant to Ann Veronica because it served to banish a disagreeable preoccupation. A white man takes his life in his hands. “Would YOU like us—if some one told you the bare outline of our story?— and what we are doing?” “I shouldn’t mind,” said Ann Veronica. “I shall have to give up biology, anyhow.
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