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The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was. Later, when the Reverend Henry Dolby entered the Spurlock room, his wife and daughter trailing amusedly behind him, and beheld the strained eagerness on the two young faces, he smiled inwardly and indulgently. They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see, because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life, and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects. Women! He is always chanting the praise of some discovery; sometimes it will be a native, often a white woman out of the stews. “Well,” she said.
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