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. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. As soon as Blueskin was removed, Wild intimated his intention of visiting the Castle. Well, let him be honest. His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself. My mother really wants to meet you. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe.
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