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. "Sir!" exclaimed Winifred, rising. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. She shook her head, almost breaking a smile. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. It really isn’t so easy to go as it seems.
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