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. " "We may believe as much of that as we please, I suppose," observed the carpenter's wife, with a sneer. Things hung for a moment in an awkward silence. Presently she saw Spurlock on the way to the lagoon.
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