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. Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation. She did not remember him, but he said that he had introduced himself to her when she was visiting the butcher's family.
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