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. “I wanted to go to an art-student ball of which he disapproved. We had no idea. ‘Do not be alarmed, Jacques. This gloom was impossible. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly.
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