The light touch of Ah Cum's hand upon her arm broke the thread of retrospective thought; and her gray eyes began to register again the things she saw. He seemed like a very intelligent doctor and not at all like a snooty archbishop. 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. A dull light shone through the open window blinds and softened the room with parchment yellowness. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp.
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