She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. She let go of him and stood up, straightening herself. She did not think for one moment what interpretation he might put upon the word “lover. Servants were passing backwards and forwards with tea and chocolate. O God! O God!" And he appeared convulsed with agony. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. ” “Point taken. Ruth Enschede, Hartford, Conn.
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