He called a waiter. And in these crowded four weeks, what had she learned? That all horizons were lies: that smiles and handshakes and goodbyes and welcomes were lies: that there were really no to-morrows, only a treadmill of to-days: and that out of these lies and mirages she had plucked a bitter truth—she was alone. Such apartments as she saw were either scandalously dirty or unaccountably dear, or both. Before he could make the thrust, however, he was seized behind by Ireton, who flung himself upon him. She remembered abruptly that she was really living upon his money. Come along home, Ruth.
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