She gave up trying to stop. No stranger to strange men in strange houses, she stood behind him as he reclined at the crowded banquet table. Noiseless sobs, rising from unknown depths, shook her slender frame. Twin streams surged past long, vainly clenched eyelashes, falling, splashing, etching pale rivulets across his grime-encased feet. As she opened her eyes, the pent-up reservoirs poured out, making a muddy mess. Kneeling quickly, she loosed flowing hair to clean ankles, toes, soles, and heels. Then, leaning lower, she kissed the feet that brought such good news.