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. Just an idea of mine. . Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. I saw her face and it was the face that had been hidden from me in dreams, a face very much like yours, Lucia. “The truth!” It was a moment of awkwardness between the two sisters —a moment, too, charged with its own psychological interest, for there were secrets between them which for many months had made their intercourse a constrained and difficult thing. . She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder.
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