“Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. A strong coarse man, and there were things in his eyes which made my blood run cold with terror. "What! refuse to see a person who desires to speak with me. 82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. 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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