Since they had last met, Sam had told himself perhaps a hundred times
that he cared nothing about Billie, that she had gone out of his life
and was dead to him; but unfortunately he did not believe it. A man
takes a deal of convincing on a point like this, and Sam had never
succeeded in convincing himself for more than two minutes at a time. It
was useless to pretend that he did not still love Billie more than
ever, because he knew he did; and now, as the truth swept over him for
the hundred and first time, he groaned hollowly and gave himself up to
the gray despair which is the almost inseparable companion of young men
in his position.
So engrossed was he in his meditation that he did not hear the light
footstep in the outer office, and it was only when it was followed by a
tap on the door of the inner office that he awoke with a start to the
fact that clients were in his midst. He wished that he had taken his
father's advice and locked up the office. Probably this was some
frightful bore who wanted to make his infernal will or something,
and Sam had neither the ability nor the inclination to assist him.
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