“Just remember, I have to make this up to you. She washed her face with unwonted elaboration before she went to bed. 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. That's the way it goes.
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