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"Reluctantly, gingerly, he leaned across the narrow body slumbering beneath him."
At the Time Appointed
The father hated his son with a vindictive hatred, all because of a childhood
accident—and his hatred culminated in a ghastly jest,
there in the silent tomb
NOW that Nick Carruthers had the letter in his hand, it seemed amazing to him that he could have gone about the shabby business of his daily life—getting a scanty breakfast, poring for hours over thumbed racing-sheets while he made his desperate guesses—with it lying all the morning
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