‘Come, cry a truce. Die, indeed! We’re going to do work; we’re going to unfold about each other; we’re going to have children. He’s—He lives in a world of possibilities outside your imagination. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. She was now permitted freely to study the face. "If I spoke to him, my interest might be misinterpreted. Can't I make you see?" "But I'm telling you Ruth loves you. 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. If that's true, she's not long for this world. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture.
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