The young officer sat in front, his hat perfectly straight. Priests and princes sought his knowledge of languages and philosophy and wantonly tried to throw themselves into his bed. ‘That is my mother. As he proceeded, other painful reminiscences were aroused. 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.
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