“The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. 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 she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity. He will say who it was. What more could any reasonable man— especially a watchman—desire? Besides, the Marquis, is a devilish fine fellow, and a particular friend of mine. The woman I wanted was another man's wife. That was an admission all right. " "Where did you go to school?" Prudence asked, seeking a new channel, for the old one appeared to be full of hidden reefs. "All I want is to be happy!" she said aloud, as if she were asking for something of such ordinary value that God would readily accord it to her because there was so little demand for the commodity.
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