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. " "Bah!" returned the woollen-draper. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. No, no! Not now!" Ruth turned abruptly and walked toward the bungalow, mounted the veranda steps, and vanished within. “What makes you ask such a question, Vee?” she said.
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