He was now almost driven to despair. 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 had learned this art in skirts, and knew well how not to be disadvantaged. "Sir Rowland is your uncle—he will be your guardian—he will protect you. This "fatal retreat for the unfortunate brave" was marked by a low wooden railing, within which stood the triple tree. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word.
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