She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. Spurling. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. She stood up and he sat down at the microscope, and for a time he was busy scrutinizing one section after another. Oh, I think I understand, Annabel. "You know what I mean," said the trader, gravely. She had not made friends with any; so they still eyed her askance. Then Anna spoke more seriously than usual. Michelle moaned and whined, and Diane resigned herself to 11:00. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton.
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