He heard the door close; and in a little while he fell into a doze; and there came a dream filled with broken pictures, each one of which the girl dominated. Recovering himself quickly his instinct of self-defence was quicker than his recollection of Anna’s presence. “And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs. “It is just a look. ‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. The Enschede Bible—the one out of which she read—had been strangely mutilated.
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