The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. 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. A little darling? Lord in heaven, he had taken leave of his senses. They even talked about friendship. Hell's curses! that after all my precautions I should be thus entrapped. “The first person you love, Ann Veronica, is yourself—get hold of that! The soul you have to save is Ann Veronica’s soul. She told you —the truth. ‘Did it indeed?’ ‘I should think he’s guessed, don’t you?’ ‘Without any doubt at all. "I read those stories. “It was very tiring. “You must not.
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