Oh, what have you been about now?’ ‘There is no need to be concerned. Montague Hill. These petals! I’ve been wanting to cry all the evening, cry here on your shoulder for my petals. “Why should it matter?” he said. Sheppard returned no answer. 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.
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