She let them fall and sped to the companion, where she stood for a moment, the moonlight giving her a celestial touch. She was very pale, and there was a look of fear in her eyes. Still, one has to be reasonable. 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. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. Just then, a carriage drawn by four horses, drove furiously up to the Six Bells; but Jack was too much absorbed to take any notice of it. “I ought never have gone to the Zoo, I suppose.
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