He tried again. —I'll give him the edication of a prig,—teach him the use of his forks betimes,—and make him, in the end, as clever a cracksman as his father. 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. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. Somewhere you may stumble upon a clew to his identity.
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