Shoplatch. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. "Inequality of rank can be no bar to our union," continued Kneebone. ’ Hilary eyed him. He smiled grandly; she could feel the radiance of his approval from across the wedding table. He lowered her neck before her, and she noticed a bizarre urge to bite him rising from her mind like an itch. 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.
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