‘Oh no, you don’t,’ said Gerald in a low tone. . "No. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. It had been her home for hundreds of years. Prudence. 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. The way it had happened was stupid, absurd.
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