He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. 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. “You did your best to kill me,” he said. That bruise will answer the same purpose. What happened at Dollis Hill 449 XXIX.
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