It was a grand life. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy. ” “Call it what you like,” Anna answered. “As my lady wills. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. At last he could bear it no longer. Why can’t you let it be?’ Gerald grinned at him. There were no mourners. 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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