Suddenly light broke in upon him.
"Why, it's Jenison," he exclaimed, and advanced, an amiable smile on
his lips. David ignored the hand that he extended; he could only
stare, as if fascinated, at the puffy face of the speaker.
Grand had altered but little in appearance during the five years that
had passed. He seemed to have grown no older, nor was he less
repulsive to look upon. As of old, he was carefully, even immaculately
dressed.
Ernie Cronk moved away. They might have heard him chuckling softly to
himself.
"Let me see, it's five years, isn't it?" went on the Colonel suavely.
He did not appear to resent David's omission. "You've changed
considerably. The mustache improves you, I think."
His voice was as oily as ever, his eyes and his nose as sheep-like.
Something arose in David's throat, bringing a certain hoarseness to
his voice.
"Time has not affected you, Colonel," he retorted.
"So they tell me," said the other. "Are you waiting to meet some one?"
"Yes," said David, and nothing more.
The Colonel twirled his stick. "My daughter is arriving by the four-
twenty," he announced.
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