Sheppard raised her eyes, and fixed them upon her interrogator. "Well, without immediate care he would have passed out. 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. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. She lay very still and closed her eyes, hear tears gliding off of her ears, causing them to itch. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. “Get you a cold one?” “No thanks. My eyes are open to you. ‘What now?’ ‘Now,’ she answered flatly, ‘you will please to tell me at once why you have come here. ” He bit, feeling the numb desire to maul her. He flung aside all his talk of help and disinterested friendship as though it had never been even a disguise between them, as though from the first it was no more than a fancy dress they had put quite understandingly upon their relationship.
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