My wife doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand now. 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. When, by slow and toilsome efforts, he had arrived midway, something obstructed his further progress. The children made us slaves, and the men took advantage of it.
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