She called them back very soon. 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. "But she is saying something to me! What is it?" The hotel manager, who spoke Cantonese with facility, interpreted. “Only four spoonsful left,” she declared briskly, “and your turn to buy the next pound, Sydney.
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