" The spinster had no retort to offer such directness. “Mrs. “A wonderful piece of work,” he declared. 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 waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. The eyes, too, though large and bright, and shaded by long lashes, seemed to betoken, as hazel eyes generally do in men, a faithless and uncertain disposition. She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder.
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