” “It’s Shari’s work. Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way. Detached, it was not impossible that she would be forced to leave the dining room because of invading tears. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. There was a pleasant numbness in the bottle; that's why I went to it. He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. It was just a chance that we in particular hit against each other—nothing predestined about it.
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