In a moment he was beside her. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad. The conversation turned towards the subject of the Diedermayer’s many European vacations. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. ‘Always he is busy about my affairs. 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. ” Her mind diverged to other aspects, and another type of womanhood.
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