At the back of the procession, Flora waited for an alarm to sound at her profane presence on this highest and restricted level of the hive—but a cloud of incense rose up beneath her feet just as from those ahead and joined her to the procession. And then, as the two tall double doors in the middle of the passageway swung open to admit them, her soul filled with joy. Waves of raw floral fragrance billowed out on warm air. Flora entered the sacred refinery of the Fanning Hall and beheld the genius of her people.
