W," said Mr. His grey eyes burned under his shaggy eyebrows. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. "Relating to the father of the boy—Thames Darrell," supplied Jonathan. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments. She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation crept over her. It was a dismal and depressing sight to see a great city thus suddenly overthrown; and the carpenter was deeply moved by the spectacle.
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