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Mitchell, S. Weir (Silas Weir), 1829-1914

"Westways"

How long is it?"
Then he shook off Rivers, saying, "I am quite well," and going by his
wife went through the open door, moving like one dazed. He stood still a
moment looking about him, turned back and speaking to his wife said, "I
understand now. At first it seemed strange to me and as if I had never
been here before. Ever feel that way, Ann?"
"Oh, often, James." No signal of her anguish showed on the gallantly
carried face of the little woman.
"Quiet, isn't it? When was it I was hit? It was--wasn't it in May? Rivers
says it was July--I do not like contradiction." His appreciation of time
and recognition of locality were alike disordered, as Rivers had observed
with distress and a too constant desire to set him right. With better
appreciation of his condition, Ann accepted his statement.
"Yes--yes, of course, dear--it is just so."
"I knew you would understand me. I should like to go to bed--I want
Josiah--no one else."
"Yes, dear," and this above all else made clear to the unhappy little
lady how far was the sturdy soldier who had left her from the broken man
in undress uniform who clung to the rail, as he went slowly up the
stairway with his servant. In the hall he had seen Leila, but gave her no
word, not even his habitual smile of recognition.


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