She could not speak. It was bad luck to go to Canongate. “To tell you the truth, it has seemed just lately as though we were becoming in some measure estranged. 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 I’m thinking as how I’d best report to the major over this here shooting. "There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do.
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