It isn’t illusions—for us. But he was so feeble, that it seemed scarcely possible he could offer any effectual resistance in case of an attack. 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 sank upon her knees and unbuttoned his coat. Jeez! It was about time. “I’m sorry, ma’am, to seem the cause of any disturbance, but this,” he pointed to Anna, “is my wife.
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