“You will always have to run from normal people and normal life, John. I must!” She threw open the door and pointed to it. ‘I do not know of whom you speak. 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. A couple of gilt straight-backed chairs only.
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