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. Lucy wore it every day from then on. “He’s got almost to like it. But at the same time, I must say plainly that I think your presence here just now would be a great misfortune. Just an idea of mine.
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