Brooks had seen men with the prison pallor in their faces before.
He was not long in apprising Mrs. Braddock of the stranger's visit.
She was with Christine when he made the unhappy announcement. If he
expected a demonstration of concern or surprise, he was disappointed.
"I will see Mr. Braddock when he returns," said his mistress quietly.
Brooks blinked two or three times, his only tribute to the stupendous
shock he had experienced.
Thomas Braddock walked to the Battery. There he sat down on one of the
benches and glowered out upon the blue waters of the bay for an hour
or more. No muscle moved in his face. He waited with a patience that
was three years old.
When David drove up to the Portman place, Mrs. Braddock herself arose
from one of the chairs in the narrow stone porch at the top of the
steps. She, too, had been waiting, but not for the young man who
dashed up the steps.
"He has been here," she said, as she gave him her hand. The tenseness
of the clasp revealed the strain that was upon her. He noted the
pallor in her cheek, the dread in her eyes. The hot glare of the June
sun seemed to bring out gray hairs he had never seen before.
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