“You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face. 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 thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. ” “Straight?” “Not a bit of it! He’s been out after eight per cent. Eventually her movements carried her to the little stand at the side of the bed. She had thought it a mirror, because it was her.
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