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 his every thought is a mere creature of language—er, that's not original."

They had strolled about the corner and had arrived at the entrance to Edwards'. Here Danforth bade good-morning and, turning, walked away without looking back.

Hart sat down on the doorstep. Although it was damp and chilly his coat was open and his skin felt hot and feverish. A strange bodily weariness was on him, but his brain had begun to whirl again in ever changing thoughts. Now and then it appeared to him that his heart beat faster for a moment, only to slow down again. What strange happenings had taken place in the last few hours. What new chapter had he opened and what unknown capacities had he discovered within himself! Where would it lead? What did it mean? He arose to his feet and to his surprise almost reeled against the side of the doorway. The morning light had broadened, and the sun was up above the clouds. A line of mist hung over the canal to the eastward. There was a smell of freshness and salt in the air, as if the wind that was from the distant sea had brought the taint of it. From the direction of the railroad station there came the sound of