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 turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. I wanted the magic of love. "I'm a peace-officer," he added, "about to arrest a notorious criminal.
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