You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. 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. " But he searched in vain. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. But I want to know whether in such an event you would stand by me?” She held out her hand. "Let us hope that, like her who 'loved much,' her sins are forgiven her. Not all of us, but some of us.
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