He kept at it even on those nights when the monsoon began to break with heavy storms and he had to weight down with stones everything on his table. 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. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. ’ ‘Very well, Melusine, you win,’ Gerald said unguardedly, and dug his hand into his pocket.
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