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. Only in her eyes there seemed to be some apprehension of the fact that the young man’s clothes and manners were alike undesirable things. Ann Veronica considered her answer. She was recalling the circumstances under which she had engaged herself to Manning, and trying to understand a curious development of the quality of this relationship. He was so seldom wrong. He believes that he is leaving this conscience behind; and I want to watch his disillusion on this particular point. The stags and oxen and things all have to fight for us, everywhere. . .
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