” She said. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. ‘Not kill me, I mean. It is simply our point of view which is altogether different. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. ” “I couldn’t do that,” said Ann Veronica, sharply.
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