The sidewalk resonated with the pounding of cold rain by the time she left the building. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. She calmed herself, breathing deeply. They’re fairly intricate little things. 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 villagers were thronging to church. ” “I’ve been certain of it for years.
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