When other kids got sick at school, they always had Moms who would rescue them within minutes. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. 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. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. He walked through a wide open archway, curtained with deep-blue curtains, into the apartment that served as a reception-room. She remained for some seconds crouching at the fender, poker in hand. She decided to leave after Prom. “Here we are, living in the same suburb,” he began. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. She could hardly speak to me; she insisted relentlessly upon a separation.
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