The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. It was neither good nor bad. It is that, is it not?” “No,” he answered readily. 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 will do so. Besides ——” She stopped short. They did not want her. You don’t deserve it, but he does.
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