"And now to see the end of it," said Jonathan, shortly afterwards passing through the window. It must have been impossible to see me through that much rain. She had seen her really only at teas, with the Stanley strain in her uppermost. He could not kiss Ruth. Sheppard made an effort to speak, but her voice was choked by emotion. 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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