Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. This man has an evil reputation. 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. The ticket line filtered slowly into the glass doors, growing louder and more boisterous by the minute. I'm sure she'll let me go, though. Sheppard.
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