The manager, however, who stood in the wings, nodded to her to proceed, and the orchestra commenced the first few bars of the music. 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. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt.
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