He looked at his watch. "Where's Al?"

"I'll send him."

When the door had closed behind her, he walked over to the window and
looked out, drumming absently with his knuckles on the pane.

"Hello."

He turned and responded to the greeting of the man who had just entered.
There was a perceptible drag to the man's feet as he walked across toward
the window and paused irresolutely halfway.

"I've changed my mind, George," he announced hurriedly and nervously. "I'm
not going."

He plucked at his sleeve, shuffled with his feet, dropped his eyes, and
with a strong effort raised them again to confront the other.

George regarded him silently, his nostrils distending and his lean fingers
unconsciously crooking like an eagle's talons about to clutch.

In line and feature, there was much of resemblance between the two men; and
yet, in the strongest resemblances there was a radical difference. Theirs
were the same black eyes, but those of the man at the window were sharp and
straight looking, while those of the man in the middle of the room were
cloudy and furtive. He could not face the other's gaze, and continually
and vainly struggled with himself to do so. The high cheek bones with the
hollows beneath were the same, yet the texture of the hollows seemed