Mr. “You need a reason. This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting. “They mould one insensibly. "I could not believe you capable of so foul a deed. But still you have told me of my real mother when I thought it was Suzanne Valade. 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. The odds were astounding and yet he had it bad. She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground. Wood was once a favourite of yours. I will go to-night. The beachcomber, the lowest in the human scale; and some day he would enter into this estate.
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