Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard. 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. You’re a lady all right and tight, and nothing anyone does can take that away from you. I am the cause of his ill-usage. She was civil, but she was obviously impatient to know his errand. The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. "My sight is failing me. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes.
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