CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. ‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. “Isn’t the question more complicated than that?” said Ann Veronica. ‘I did not send you a card because in the normal way of things you rarely attend such affairs. "I'll be his evil genius!" vociferated Jonathan, who seemed to enjoy her torture. Her tone was hoarse with passion. It makes me desire life beyond measure. He is steeped in the conventions. 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.
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