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 "Well, I'm not counting upon being sick in the night," said Bess, "and you'll oblige me by not counting upon it, either. Let's talk about the weather."

That was always her way of turning the conversation.

"All right," I said. "I hope we'll have a fine day to cross the lake! Chicken and the briny deep in one mouthful!—I guess that's going some, isn't it?"

Bess put up her chin. "Chet" she said, "things are coming my way. Those were the two highest stone walls that I had before me to climb, and I was waiting to come to them;—but instead, they have just walked right up to me, and said:—'It's up to you now, what are you going to do about us?' All the time, I have thought that I was going to have to climb over them; but all of a sudden I see that I have only to walk through them;—for they're not stone, they're only—only fog. I used to think that they were protecting me from pain and danger; but they were really only shutting me away from freedom. I never realized it until I got so close to them.