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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"The Garden of Allah"

Had a bird
alighted on the parapet and startled her by scratching at the plaster
with its beak? Could a mouse have shuffled in the wall? Or was there a
human being up there hidden from her by the masonry?
This last supposition disturbed her almost absurdly for a moment. She
was inclined to walk quickly round to the opposite side of the tower,
but something stronger than her inclination, an imperious shyness, held
her motionless. She had been carried so far away from the world that
she felt unable to face the scrutiny of any world-bound creature. Having
been in the transparent region of magic it seemed to her as if her
secret, the great secret of the absolutely true, the naked personality
hidden in every human being, were set blazing in her eyes like some
torch borne in a procession, just for that moment. The moment past, she
could look anyone fearlessly in the face; but not now, not yet.
While she stood there, half turning round, she heard the sound again and
knew what caused it. A foot had shifted on the plaster floor. There was
someone else then looking out over the desert. A sudden idea struck her.


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