What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. " Thames complied. She lost it in the Mint. He pressed the long shapely hand warmly in his. Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. 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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