There it was—to be borrowed. His arm fell to his side. 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 was locked. You cannot—shall not retreat. Anna sighed as she reflected that her sister had simply revelled in her indiscretions.
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