He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. " "Hum!" exclaimed Jonathan. Taber is the name. " "It's that, but it interferes with the college spirit stuff. Don't lay it all to the boy. But he was not a father one could make much of. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. ” He crossed himself and grinned.
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