How much more of him was there to know? Ah much, much, many days
harvesting for her large, yet perfectly subtle and intelligent hands
upon the field of his living, radio-active body. Ah, her hands were
eager, greedy for knowledge. But for the present it was enough, enough,
as much as her soul could bear. Too much, and she would shatter
herself, she would fill the fine vial of her soul too quickly, and it
would break. Enough now--enough for the time being. There were all the
after days when her hands, like birds, could feed upon the fields of
him mystical plastic form--till then enough.
And even he was glad to be checked, rebuked, held back. For to desire
is better than to possess, the finality of the end was dreaded as
deeply as it was desired.
They walked on towards the town, towards where the lamps threaded
singly, at long intervals down the dark high-road of the valley. They
came at length to the gate of the drive.
'Don't come any further,' she said.
'You'd rather I didn't?' he asked, relieved.
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