And so, like a female Colossus, she strode slowly across the city, her head tilted, her eyes looking up from the cavernous streets--up beyond the lofty roofs of houses, her voice becoming fainter and fainter: "Rags ... old iron ... bottles and ra-ags ..." until the God of those who fall fighting in the battle of life reached down and, drawing the sword, threw away the scabbard. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of O. Henry Memorial Award Prize Stories of 1921, by Various