Gracious, there’s the gong. You'd better lose no time. “I do not understand. She pointed. 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. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village.
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