The resemblance was amazing! And some man—he was good-looking—was in the background. “Shot through the lungs,” he remarked. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. The Procession to Tyburn 462 XXXII. Poor young lady! She trembled too, and was unable to give her evidence. You, Anna, are one of them. 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. .
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