I don’t believe in the faults. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. 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. Oh, I know. But he tells them that I am a spy.
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