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. None of this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing. It was the first—and the last! At this juncture, the handle of the door was tried, and the voice of Mr.
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