"I couldn't tell, I didn't know whether it turned aside from the road, or whether they dropped me out and went on.

Really, it was all so quick that it was almost as if the motor had stopped being, and left me there." "Perhaps it did stop being--in this dimension," St.George could not help saying.
At this she laughed in assent.
"Who knows," she said, "what may be true of us--_nous autres_ in the Fourth Dimension?
In Yaque queer things are true.

And of course you never can tell--" At this St.George turned toward her, and his eyes compelled hers.
"Ah, yes, you can," he told her, "yes, you can." Then he folded his arms and leaned against the stone prisms again, looking down at her.

Evidently the magician, whoever he was, did not mind his saying that, for the palace did not crumble or the moon cease from shining on the white walls.
"Still," she answered, looking toward the sea, "queer things _are_ true in Yaque.

It is queer that you are here.