"I yield to fate. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. 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. If you knew anything about Canton ware, you were, as like as not, sorely tempted to stuff a teacup into your pocket. Besides, you cannot tell where it will end. Consternation gripped him. Love and companionship. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park.
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