’ ‘Lady Bicknacre too,’ said Lucilla, a delight in her voice that grated on Melusine. 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. She was a lone white woman, therefore marked. Manning might go on now idealizing her as much as he liked.
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