I don’t care what divides us. It is in the lower cupboard. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. ’ ‘And was not she put out?’ demanded Miss Froxfield with a tinkling laugh. "Of course," rejoined the bystander, who had just spoken, and who was of a cynical turn,—"the greater the rascal, the better they like him. ” The corners of her lips rose along with her eyebrows. 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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