She laid her hand upon his arm. I'll tell you what. She decided not to ask him outright if he wished to make love to her. 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. "Your hesitation convinces me he does," replied the widow.
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