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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. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. ’ ‘Oui, mais—safe. Pretty good stuff, some of it. “I hope that you are going to allow me to see something of you during your stay in London, for the sake of old times.
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