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. And immeasurable was the calm evolved from this knowledge. ’ Then memory hit and he stared at his friend. The world into which she was so boldly venturing was going to be wonderful, but never so wonderful as the world within these paper covers. "It looks as though, we should go together," he said, pulling her toward him. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. Tum, tum, tirray, tum, tum, tum, te-tum—that thing of Mendelssohn’s! If making one human being absolutely happy is any satisfaction to you—” He held out his hands, and she also stood up.
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