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Only your horror of a grandfather insisted on coming with me, so I had to wait for him to be ready and travel at his pace. And now you must go back, take up your work and think all this over. 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.
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