“I have not the least idea who he is. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. ” “We’ll have, thank God! ten myriad days to tell each other things. 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. And it had not shocked her! It was this appalling absence of indignation that had put terror into her heart.
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