It grew clear to her that throughout all her wild raid for independence she had done nothing for anybody, and many people had done things for her. Anna turned round with a start, which was almost of guilt, the poker still in her 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 dashed against the screen door before she could catch him and made the veranda. Because of the thought of love and companionship? No. “Second class,” said some one, but first and second were all alike to her. It would not have interested him in the least to learn that the tub ran on two powers—wind and oil.
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