At least here she was safe. One chance in a thousand, and that would be the girl. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. " "That's reasonable. ’ ‘Oh, that tragic pair,’ uttered her ladyship in saddened tones. Wood hadn't struck me. 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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