He stared at her breasts while he touched them. There was something fatalistic about the letter H. “So very clear and cold,” she said. 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 doesn’t know. I don’t think they do matter. ’ She allowed herself to be pulled to the centre of the room, but uttered in a low tone, full of suppressed anxiety, ‘How can he know? How can he know?’ ‘You mean how can he know that this is your house?’ Melusine looked up at him, distress in her eyes. But somehow he could not bring any of these affairs to an orderly end.
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