He had found his way into a
garden which lay beyond the world. He was conscious all at once of a
strange mixture of spicy perfumes, a faint sense of intoxication, of
weird, delicate emotions which caught at the breath in his throat and
sent the blood dancing through his veins, warmed to a new and wonderful
music. Her blue eyes were a little dimmed, the droop of her head a
little sad. Quite close to them was a thick bed of lavender. He looked
at the beans in his hand and his eyes sought the thickest part of the
clustering mass of foliage and blossom. She had lifted her eyes now and
it seemed to him that she had divined his purpose--approved of it, even.
Her slim, white-clad body swayed towards him. She appeared to have
abandoned finally the faint aloofness of her attitude. He raised his
hand. Then she stopped him. The moment, whatever its dangers may have
been, had passed.
"I do not know whether your story is an allegory or not," she said
softly. "It really doesn't matter, does it? You must come and see me
again--afterwards."
CHAPTER X
NO RECONCILIATION
Burton travelled down to Garden Green on the following morning by the
Tube, which he hated, and walked along the familiar avenue with loathing
at his heart.
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