The hand grasped the curtain, and drew it aside, and as it did so I heard a voice, I think the softest and yet most silvery voice I ever heard.

Her wasted figure, lean and weak, Was wan and pale as garden leek, The while her visage, void of blood, Bespoke her languorous wearihood.

Make the most of your youth, it will not last forever.

By mid morning I was in Madison, Wis. With $37 and a walletful of easily traced and therefore unusable credit and ATM cards.