He made the universe on those lines. She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. It seemed to her at this moment that there was nothing left for her to do. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. Knowledge was sacred in Athens, knowledge and his twin, Art. Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. She was very pale, and there was a look of fear in her eyes.
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