“Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. I love everything to-day, and all of you, but I love this, this—this innocence upon us most of all. I did not know how he would act if I obstructed him. He did not spend more time with her. 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. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room.
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