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It was the first day you kissed me, under the willows, coming into Veraz. At least—’ ‘Don’t be more of a lunatic than you can help,’ broke in the captain, addressing himself to Melusine. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. 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.
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