But nothing followed to indicate that the liquid had stimulated the heart. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. I wanted it badly. Taber is the name. So, very carefully, he raised her in his arms and carried her to her bed. The room seemed a vacuum. And there, about Saas, are ice and snows again, and sometimes we will loiter among the rocks and trees about Saas or peep into Samuel Butler’s chapels, and sometimes we will climb up out of the way of the other people on to the glaciers and snow. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. The stage manager came out from the wings, and taking her hand led her off. 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. She turned the television off.
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