His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. 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. There's the paragraph. “I don’t take any prisoners, John! You do not want this life!” “Yes I do! I am an adult. She could not run, her limbs were frozen. She looked around the apartment for other people.
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