‘Silence,’ hissed a voice in French. " "I wish I could, Joan," returned the carpenter, sadly. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. Gerald glanced at Hilary and saw the stunned look on his face. 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. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms.
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