She found herself talking to Capes in an undertone of rational admission. It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. "The Dawn Pearl," he said. 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. Paris copies London.
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