“This is not every day. 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. Diedermeyer, sweetheart? He just went in. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. He looked just like John Wayne in a cowboy movie, his eyes narrow and squinting, except his hair was long, unruly, and jet black. “I’d sooner condemn you to Hell. The scanty furniture of the rooms corresponded with their dungeon-like aspect. From all angles he was at a disadvantage—in weight, skill, endurance. I had no idea you were not the happiest girl. The satisfaction of cheating Death again. He was in the house with his mother.
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