All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. 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. F. Wood, bursting into tears, "God bless you!" Jack extended his hand towards him, and looked anxiously for Thames; but he was nowhere to be seen. The following morning found him in the doctor's waiting room, a black cigar turning unlighted in his teeth.
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