He shrugged and, to Gerald’s relief, made to leave at last. He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of his tie and hair were almost rakish. He stood with his hands in his pockets looking at Miss Klegg’s back. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. She resumed her on guard position, and glaring steadily at him, waited again. “Wow, congratulations, Martin. The other individual, who was a little in advance, was concealed from the stranger's view. CHAPTER XXIII. “But I—I went to Nigel Ennison for help. .
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