” “Uh. She had to wear cream and a brown sash and a short frock and her hair down, and Gwen cream and a brown sash and a long skirt and her hair up. So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. 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. They exchanged greetings with the clarinetist. She said there was no other way to get them to stop their constant screaming. As he turned the handle, it moved, and the door was taken from his hand and pulled outward by the young footman. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor.
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