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. The comments on the makeover lessened but were replaced by long admiring glances by boys who had never before given her the time of day. "I hope not.
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