. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. " "We waste time with this fellow," interposed Sir Cecil, "and may lose the object of our quest, who, beyond doubt, has taken refuge in this building. “The fact is—I don’t know why—this takes me by surprise. ” He drew a little nearer to her. Then he understood. Though Gerald must suppose it was inevitable she should eventually come here. " "Why, what'll you do?" demanded the turnkey.
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