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"Give me the child, or—" As he spoke the door was thrown open, and Mrs. “If I do,” he 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. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. ‘You don’t know him. He was an outside broker and the proprietor of a financial newspaper; he had come up very rapidly in the last few years, and Mr.
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