“I knew you would begin to see how it all falls into place together. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. It isn’t law, nor custom, nor masculine violence settled that. 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. She was, as Capes had said, a hard young woman.
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