Wood,—Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant,—and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction. 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. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go.
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