[continued from previous message]   
      
   quickly fastens the chain around her neck, the cross hanging low against   
   her chest, then gathers her things and leaves.   
      
   Outside, she kicks the Harley to life and speeds off into the night. As   
   she rockets out of town, she barely notices the dilapidated sign leaning   
   drunkenly in the weeds on the side of the road:   
      
   Jerusalem's Lot   
   18 miles   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)