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. Jack seemed glad enough to rest, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes. Besides, it was under false pretences. “You’ll be there, right?” She asked, hearing his breathing audibly jump. ” “Of course you’re converted?” she said. She got up and unlocked the door. “I want to know who you are.
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