276 He opened the box. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed. Abruptly, Gerald turned. The two friends contrasted strikingly with each other. After all, you failed in obtaining the secret from her, Sir Rowland. This person, whose age might be about forty, was attired in a brown double-breasted frieze coat, with very wide skirts, and a very narrow collar; a light drugget waistcoat, with pockets reaching to the knees; black plush breeches; grey worsted hose; and shoes with round toes, wooden heels, and high quarters, fastened by small silver buckles. He had made it even easier by walking up the steps instead of taking the elevator. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. Bring your liveralong?" "I sometimes wonder if I have any—if it isn't the hole where it was that aches. " "So that is what separated us! Oh, Hoddy, you have wasted so many wonderful days! Why didn't you tell me?" "I couldn't!" He made as though to draw away, but her arms became hoops of steel. It would be the culmination of her plan.
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