" "What should I retract, villain?" cried the woollen-draper, who at the sound of Jack's voice had regained his confidence. " "Who?" almost screamed Mrs. She said as much to him. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. “Oh, there’s no doubt of it! Since the girls of the eighties broke bounds and sailed away on bicycles—my young days go back to the very beginnings of that —it’s been one triumphant relaxation. ‘Leonardo again,’ he growled. 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. She was so interested, and this was such a relief from the trudging anxiety of her search for work, that she went on for a whole week as if she was still living at home. " "I cannot repent,—I cannot pray," replied Jack, recovering his hardened demeanour. Challenge accepted.
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