" CHAPTER XIII. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. ‘You don’t know the whole, child. Don't forget to cut out all effervescent water. . ” “You and I and Brendon get on all right, don’t we?” Sydney objected. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. You do not love your husband, you have married him for a position —to escape from—things which you feared. He's safe enough now. 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. Once he chuckled aloud. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun.
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