Are you prepared to do it?” Her hands clenched. Rumors had it he had been a looker in his youth, all long hair and chiseled muscles, but those days were long gone. 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. “Will you help me?” he asked. In spite of all this, he grew daily better and stronger, and his spirits revived.
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