"What's all this?" exclaimed Wood in amazement. "Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me. " "He has done too much already," answered the widow. 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. " "For me!" vociferated Mrs.
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