She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. After all, Hilary must be near returned by now. “Two days’ notice shall be sufficient on either side. She sings twice a week at the ‘Ambassador’s’ and the ‘Casino Mavise’——” Sir John held up his hand. 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. He would have risen again, but for the significance of the action. A woman cannot change her soul. He held her eyes.
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