” Their agreement so far seemed remarkable, and yet as a home-coming the thing was a little lacking in warmth. 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. " Quilt, however, seemed unwilling to speak. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. “And yet you still live, Butterfly.
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