what’s your name again?” He asked. 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. We have him as safe as a linnet in a cage; and could wring his neck round as easily. This is your moment. ’ ‘That’s easy. ” “I had to,” she repeated. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. .
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