“I don’t see there’s any getting away from the fact that you and I love each other,” he said, slowly. 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. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. Here are all our harlequins and columbines of the spoken and written drama. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him.
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