One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. 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. Liberates the girl from parental control. His lips were tight drawn.
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