"There's Sharples," cried Quilt. She watched for five minutes until he completely disappeared over Pine Crest, past the yellow fire hydrant and the dented stop sign. In all his life he had never realized a dream; but the thought had never before hurt him. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. He turned round toward her and found her looking at him and standing very still.
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