She felt sickeningly empty. The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory. He put it carefully aside, resolved to defer the attempt till night. “It has been a delightful evening for me. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. 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 why this part of the plan now seemed to her quite unattractive was a question she did not care to examine too closely. You did not say a word about it last week, nor have you written. It seemed incredible that she and her aunt were, indeed, creatures of the same blood, only by a birth or so different beings, and part of that same broad interlacing stream of human life that has invented the fauns and nymphs, Astarte, Aphrodite, Freya, and all the twining beauty of the gods. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. She had behaved in every way perfectly.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM2LjIzMy4yMjIgLSAyMC0wNS0yMDI0IDE5OjE3OjUyIC0gMTA5NjQwNTA2
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