She had learned this art in skirts, and knew well how not to be disadvantaged. 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. McClintock was in a gay mood at dinner that night; but he did not see fit to give these children the true reason. Sheppard now directed her steps.
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