“You remind me of a little blue stone I had once. His pipe hung dead in his teeth, but the smoke was dense about him. The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. Wood, in a taunting tone. " "I won't reproach you, Jack," said the other, sternly.
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