“But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. Some day, when the rewards of literature permit the arduous research required, the Campaign of the Women will find its Carlyle, and the particulars of that marvellous series of exploits by which Miss Brett and her colleagues nagged the whole Western world into the discussion of women’s position become the material for the most delightful and amazing descriptions. 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. He had been hard since they had taken their clothes off. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. " Mrs. " "I am," replied Jack, without hesitation; for he felt assured from the man's manner that he might confide in him. Sordid; but that was not Ruth's term for it; she had no precise commentary to offer. There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls. . Sheppard, who seemed to be crouching upon the floor. There was no point in rushing into the long walk home.
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