The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash. It must be the dawn creeping in. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. Words of encouragement and sympathy were addressed to Jack, who, as he looked around, beheld many a friendly glance fixed upon him. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden.
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