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. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. But while there's life there's hope. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. She gathered stones to place upon the makeshift grave.
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