“It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. 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. You two can talk in Lucy and Shar’s room for a few minutes. But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. " "They always act like that after drink," said Ruth, casually.
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