"I was," answered Sheppard. " "Nothing in the pockets. Ruth will be a gold mine for a man of your peculiar bent. He had set out to win her, and she had let him start. Accordingly, he began to retrace his steps, and pursuing the course he had recently taken, scaling the two towers, and passing along the wall of the prison, he descended by means of the door upon the Lower Leads. 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. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered.
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