Two women coming along the gravel walk stopped under a tree and looked
back. The barber smiled and raised his hat. When they smiled back at
him he rose and started toward them. "Come on boy," he whispered
behind his hand to McGregor. "Let's get them."
When McGregor looked up the scene before his eyes infuriated him. The
smiling barber with his hat in his hand, the two women waiting under
the tree, the look of half-guilty innocence on the faces of all of
them, stirred a blind fury in his brain. He sprang forward, clutching
the shoulder of Turner with his hand. Whirling him about he threw him
to his hands and knees. "Get out of here you females!" he roared at
the women who ran off in terror down the walk.
The barber sat again upon the bench beside McGregor. He rubbed his
hands together to brush the bits of gravel out of the flesh. "What's
got wrong with you?" he asked.
McGregor hesitated. He wondered how he should tell what was in his
mind. "Everything in its place," he said finally. "I wanted to go on
with our talk."
Lights flashed out of the darkness of the park. The two men sat on the
bench thinking each his own thoughts.
"I want to take some work out of the clamps to-night," the barber
said, looking at his watch. Together the two men walked along the
street.
Pages:
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97