That register would be easy to get at; comforting thought. 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. Sydney was watching her eagerly. Never had he been so intrigued. I'm heading for bed. When it came time to eat once again, she hid out on the beach, a remote fastness beyond the city walls, a swampy morass that everyone avoided. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. She addressed her letters, meditated on them for a time, and then took them out and posted them. I want to be with you.
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