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. There all the loose characters thronged, assignations were openly made, and the spectators diverted themselves with the vagaries of its miserable inhabitants. Let her have her own way in all things, for she will always be just. In truth, she liked Gerald also. ’ ‘Remenham House,’ exclaimed Trodger, who had been watching this interchange open-mouthed.
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