One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness. Then he sensed the trap. ’” “Yes?” “I think—yes, I went on in a pleasing blend of the casual and sotto voce, ‘The fact of it is, sir, I happen to be your son-in-law, Capes. Hot coffee and cakes were sent in to them in the morning by some intelligent sympathizer, or she would have starved all day. 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. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. He unhooked it from the front clasp. " "It was her own fault," observed Blueskin, moodily. .
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