It was just a shabby, stupid, furtive business that began between us. I took the usual way home. When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. . In regard to yourself, you've had a very narrow escape. 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. Instead, they appeared to be at the hygienic level of tramps’ lodging-houses. Sheppard. We were only—les autres. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. "It looks as though, we should go together," he said, pulling her toward him. "When you're older, you'll know that secrets of importance are not disclosed gratuitously. Too skilled to advertise their presence by a show of arms and men.
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