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. We shall have him on his return. The little girl uttered no remonstrance; but, replacing the flowers in the basket, burst into tears, and withdrew. The bungalows and stores were built of heavy bamboo and gum-wood; sprawly, one-storied affairs; for the typhoon was no stranger in these waters. He stood still, almost breathless. I suppose it is the mirrors and decorations. He must fight the thought continually, day in and day out. Hopefully.
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