” “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Lucy. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. 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. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently.
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