She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. Neither you nor your mother shall escape me. 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. Just what it means. " Thames was about to reply, but a glance from Wood checked him. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood.
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