. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. . The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it. 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. It's a sorry world," he went on. "Oh! they are—are they?" muttered Jack, triumphantly; "that'll do.
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