4. An Unwritten Novel

4. An Unwritten Novel

Su expression of unhappiness was enough by itself to make one’s eyes slide above the paper’s edge to the poor woman’s fasignifit without that look, almost a symbol of humainy with it. Life’s what you see in people’s eyes; life’s what they learn, and, havi it, hough they seek to hide it, cease to be aware of—what? That life’s like that, it seems. Five faces opposite—five mature faces—and the knowledge in each face. Strahough, how people want to ceal it! Marks of retice are on all those faces: lips shut, eyes shaded, eae of the five doing something to hide or stultify his knowledge. One smokes; another reads; a third checks entries in a pocket book; a fourth stares at the map of the line framed opposite; and the fifth—the terrible thing about the fifth is that she does nothing at all. She looks at life. Ah, but my poor, unfortunate woman, do play the game—do, for all our sakes, ceal it!

As if she heard me, she looked up, ……（内容加载失败！）

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