The last words of Davin's story sang in his memory and the figure of the woman in the story stood forth reflected in other figures of the peasant women who he had seen standing in the doorways at Clane as the college cars drove by, as a type of her race and of his own, a batlike soul waking to the consciousness of itself in darkness and secrecy and loneliness and,through the eyes and voice and gesture of a woman without guile, calling the stranger to her bed.