"Very much more than that."

"Morel"

"More."

He looked at them and it seemed as though imps
were twitching the muscles of his face. He looked
his question.

"Many years," said the man with the red beard.

Graham struggled into a sitting position. He
wiped a rheumy tear from his face with a lean hand.
"Many years!" he repeated. He shut his eyes tight,
opened them, and sat looking about him, from one
unfamiliar thing to another.

"How many years?" he asked.

"You must be prepared to be surprised."

"Well?"

"More than a gross of years."

He was irritated at the strange word. "More than
a _what_?"

Two of them spoke together. Some quick remarks