’ The lad Kimble moved swiftly to the door and walked out of the room. Amongst the ring-leaders was Blueskin, whose swarthy features and athletic figure were easily distinguished. She found herself alone in the train asking herself what she must do next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face. They took their places at a distant table. The class laughed, a few putting their hands to their foreheads in a military salute to mock 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. The wine was sweetened with cinnamon and cloves and rare edible flowers, which her father had instructed her not to drink excessively of.
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