The cook tried to ply her with spiced meat and fish soup. She had never said anything so horrible to anyone in her life. 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. His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself. He had been hard since they had taken their clothes off.
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