The order was promptly obeyed, and the horses proceeded at a furious pace along the Edgeware Road. They shouted to her from the wings to come off. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. 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. Get you gone. I don’t have to take this shit.
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