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. Slipshod; follow me. ’ ‘Oh, you are, are you?’ said the nun, evidently not mollified, but she was forestalled. ‘Damn you, what’s the matter with you?’ he snapped in frustration.
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