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. For a stunned moment, Emile did not speak. "Stop!" groaned Blueskin. It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own.
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