But it's French manners, I suppose. There was a third lady among the younger set. He never seemed to take full advantage while they were in his mammoth automobile. "No matter," replied Sheppard. 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 ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat.
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