Third period was Art, where they sat side by side at a table and carved linoleum for block prints together. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. Here she would find candy awaiting her, bits of ribbon, books. Even our coarseness. Only now it does not matter at all because Joan has come and has seen 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. She felt pride sashay into her thoughts. I have written, called—of what avail is anything—against that look.
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