Then they would leave and she would go back to being alone. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. 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. Well, after a time there came a fever in my blood.
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