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. " "He'll be hanged nevertheless," replied the Hollander, giving his collar an ugly jerk. And I’ll have that story off you as we journey back to town. Dead or alive, I'll have him.
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