Anyhow, there was some pleasurable satisfaction in knowing where the quarry would be for the next three weeks. At least, I frustrated her design in calling upon him this morning. "What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. 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.
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