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. She took it for granted Ann Veronica wore stays—mild stays, perhaps, but stays, and thought no more of the matter. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. She rose at once with a little exclamation, half of surprise, half of pleasure.
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