Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. He’ll do. ‘Alors, you make a game with me, I see that. She thought me— filthy. All at once it came to him what a fool he was to worry over this phase which was wholly suppositional. Wood. She returned home to the Beck house soaked and soggy. 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.
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