"She's glorious!" He knew that he must hoodwink this keeneyed Scot, even as he must hoodwink everybody: publicly, the devoted husband; privately, the celibate. Then came the cable that you were in Canton, ill, but not dangerously so. At other times he seemed to have regained the normal completely. 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. The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. McClintock, without comment, accepted the hand.
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