Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. ‘And she’s—’ She broke off, a sudden light in her eyes. 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. Marvel, then, took two iron weights, each of a hundred pounds, and placed them in the press. It is queer how ideas pop into one's head.
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