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He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. Goopes said that we must distinguish between sincerity and irony, which was often indeed no more than sincerity at the sublimated level. Shari entered the room in a damp towel, fresh from the shower. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. “We have,” he said, “to be the utmost friends. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door.
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