\" Lucy replied sardonically. The order was promptly obeyed, and the horses proceeded at a furious pace along the Edgeware Road. D'ye hear. Here was one of those Americans who would make him breathless before sundown. Rituals instead of medicines. 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. She nodded. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. It’s not a bit of good pretending there’s any Higher Truth or wonderful principle in this business. He's settling an account in the house. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. Before you have lived—” He became darkly prophetic. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal.
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